Wonderment
by did-you-reboot
Summary: An assassination organization that dropped out of sight ago has resurfaced, and Miles Edgeworth finds that he is connected to them in a way he never believed possible. There are few things that stop Miles Edgeworth in wonderment, but this may just be it.
1. Bubbles

_**Wonderment**_

_Chapter One: Bubbles. _

* * *

_Wonderment_—something the brilliant prosecutor Miles Edgeworth cannot seem to find. 

And yet…

…What else but wonderment could bring Miles Edgeworth to such a bourgeoisie café to drink such second-rate tea?

He sighed and glanced out the café's window from the booth he always sat in, watching the people marching along their merry ways in the reddish dusk light. Edgeworth was not quite sure why he kept coming back to the Sago Tea café, every Saturday, week after week, or why he drank the tea on their sorry excuse for a tea menu—over half the teas on the menu were simply green tea with some sort of fruit flavoring—and why he'd suddenly grown fascinated with the foot travels of people he did not know.

"Is everything going all right for you this evening, Mr. Edgeworth?"

Edgeworth glanced to the person who'd spoken to him and nodded. "Yes, thank you," he told the woman.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked, smiling. However, beneath her cheery smile—so cheery, in fact, that it almost made Edgeworth sick to his stomach—Edgeworth thought he noticed a sort of peculiar sharpness, as though she knew exactly who he was and what he was doing there. He thought perhaps he might be reading too much into things, but seldom did his observational skills lead him astray. Regardless, he couldn't shake that feeling that she knew something. It was as though she wanted something from him.

And that was it.

Miles Edgeworth kept coming back to this sorry café because of this woman—this woman who seemed to know more than she should regardless that he'd not had any conversations of significant length with her. And she didn't give off the same aura as the women who were _interested_ in him—she might be just as bubbly as the lot of them, but it still wasn't quite the same…So what was it? She could, of course, she could secretly be someone hell-bent on taking revenge for a guilty verdict he'd gotten in court, but he'd been coming to the café for quite some time and he wasn't dead yet, so he couldn't really say it was _that._ Did he perhaps come back due to curiosity on his part?

Or was it wonderment?

"No, thank you, I'm fine, Ms. Balfour," he replied. She laughed and waggled a finger at him.

"Please, Mr. Edgeworth, if you want to call me by name, call me 'Skye'," Balfour said. "Balfour isn't even on my nametag. People might get the wrong idea."

What idea people would get was beyond him, but nonetheless, Edgeworth nodded, although he had no intention of calling Balfour by her first name. Wouldn't people get the wrong idea—provided he was thinking of the _right_ wrong idea—if he called her by her _first_ name? However, she seemed satisfied and took her leave, running her fingers through her black, rather boyish hair as she went to see to some other customers.

It was already dark by the time Edgeworth finally got up from his seat, straightening his cravat and nodding to the manager as he left. He began walking back to his apartment building, his hands in his pockets as he slowly made his way. The fact that he'd driven home and _then_ walked to the café really made him question his mental processes. There was just some inexorable curiosity that was canceling out the near-infallible logic that only Phoenix Wright seemed to be able to crack. He gave a petulant snort at the idea that perhaps he should consult Wright about the matter; Wright would not be able to give him any sort of coherent answer—the man was about as brilliant as a flickering light bulb and seemed to run on pure dumb luck alone. Then again, Wright _is_ the man that not only broke his perfect-win record in court, but the entirety of the von Karma family's perfect wins. That must count for something, at least a little bit.

Regardless, it probably couldn't be anything more than a bizarre phase that he would eventually overcome.

…Right?

-----

Edgeworth sighed and rubbed the sides of his head, staring at the retreating figure of Detective Gumshoe with relief. The detective was very enthusiastic and had his heart in the right place, but he was the primary cause of the headaches that plagued Edgeworth during long case investigations. Lately, Gumshoe had been even more enthusiastic around him, likely due to the fact that whenever he was working under Franziska, the whip never seemed to rest and he was miserable for the length of the ordeal.

He glanced down at the case files on his desk and, with a resigned sigh, straightened them into a single pile and wearily shut them away into his briefcase. The actual case he'd been working on was closed—he'd even gotten a guilty verdict within the first hour of the trial—so it was only paperwork that needed to be sorted out. That could wait until tomorrow. For now, all he wanted to do was spend his Friday evening at home with a cup of a new tea he'd just bought. Perhaps he'd even take tomorrow off. With a resolute nod, he left his office and shut the door behind him, and as he headed down to the underground parking lot, he stifled a smirk at the sounds of the unfortunate Detective Gumshoe unwittingly crossing paths with Franziska as she whipped him for making her drop a stack of copies or something of the sort.

As he drove home, he tried his very hardest to not to think about the Sago Tea café. Of course, the harder one tries _not_ to think about something is the very best way to guarantee that one_ will_ think about it. And so, as he neared the café, he was engaged in an epic battle with his willpower to decide if he was going to stop there or not. It seemed his willpower was going to win, using the rationale that he hadn't been there in over three weeks and would eventually forget about the place, until that rationale was upended by the fact that _he hadn't been there in over three weeks_, and there was a very nice girl that seemed to have a very peculiar interest in him

Without even knowing what happened prior, Miles Edgeworth found that he had parked his car at his apartment building. He walked up three flights of stairs to his apartment and, once inside, set his briefcase down and slowly took a seat on his maroon sofa. He was rather pleased to find that his willpower had won and he was _not_ sitting at that café with the teas that tasted like fruit juice.

Until, of course, he found himself walking there.

Once he got there, he ordered the usual—the closest thing to _actual_ tea they had on the menu—and went to sit down in his usual booth, only to find that someone was already sitting there. The woman looked up from the small device that she'd been poking with a stylus when he faltered a bit out of surprise.

"Ah, Mr. Edgeworth. You're not usually here on Fridays, are you?"

Edgeworth looked at the woman in slight disbelief, perplexed as to why she knew his name. She smiled and took off her glasses, and immediately he realized who she was. "Ms. Balfour," he said in surprise. "You're not working today, I presume?"

"Not here, anyway," she said, smiling up at him rather wearily and pulling the headphones from her ears.

"What do you mean?" Edgeworth asked. Before she answered, Balfour gestured for him to take a seat, and when he hesitated, she gave a subdued chuckle.

"Come now, I won't hurt you." When he sat down across from her, she smiled in satisfaction and rubbed her eyes before replacing her glasses. "I only work here part time on the weekends," she explained. "The manager is very nice and lets me have a free drink if I stop by on Fridays."

"I see," said Edgeworth, fidgeting slightly and feeling a bit awkward. He couldn't help but stare at her for a bit—she seemed quite different from the lively woman he saw while she was working. "Where is it exactly that you work?"

"I'm a developer for Syntac," she said. When it was clear Edgeworth didn't have the faintest idea what Syntac was, she smiled. "Syntac Corporation. I work on the Thevenin Antivirus software."

"Ah, I see. That's quite…impressive," he said, once he remembered that his computer at home had the Thevenin Antivirus software installed on it. He wasn't sure what else to say as he knew very little about computers—he was able to use a word processor and the internet, but that was the extent of his knowledge. He _did_ know that developing software was quite difficult, however, so his comment was not to simply flatter her.

They fell silent once the manager brought Edgeworth's tea to the table. Balfour became engrossed with her little device once more, and when Edgeworth looked at it a little closer, he realized that she was playing a video game on it. He couldn't help but watch in wonder as she periodically frowned in frustration or made quiet gasps of surprise. At one point, he could've sworn that she had even scowled at the game.

"OBJECTION!"

Edgeworth jumped in shock at the force of Balfour's yell, spilling tea onto his cravat. "Wh-what are you doing?" he asked in alarm. Balfour's face turned pink and she gave him an apologetic smile.

"Oh! S-sorry about that. I'm…playing a game, and you can yell into the microphone to do things," said Balfour, laughing nervously as he attempted to wipe the tea out of his cravat with a napkin.

"Wh-what kind of game would have you yelling 'objection' into its microphone?!" Edgeworth asked irately, scowling at her and crushing the napkin in his fist.

"It's a…it's a lawyer game," she said almost hesitantly, giving him an embarrassed smile. "You play as a defense attorney, and during the trial, you can yell 'objection' when you present evidence. It's not _required_, but it's fun nonetheless."

"I—I see."

"The characters are fun," Balfour continued excitedly. "The prosecutor is a bit mean though…He's smarter than the defense attorney, though. Or at least, it seems that way."

Edgeworth stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Why…why do I feel as though my very existence has been put into perspective?" he murmured, his eye twitching slightly.

"What was that?" Balfour asked, giving him a perplexed look.

"Nothing."

The both of them sat there in the booth, each staring at the other in rather awkward silence, until finally Balfour turned off her game and put it away. "I feel bad that I made you spill your tea," she said, getting up from her seat. "Let me buy you another."

"N-no, it's all right," Edgeworth said quickly. "That won't be necessary."

Balfour ignored him and, with a smile, strode over to the front counter. The manager was manning the cash register, so she ended up getting caught in the manager's chit chat, during which Balfour had quickly turned to Edgeworth and given him an almost resigned shrug. When she finally did get the chance to tell the manager what it was she wanted to order, Edgeworth wasn't quite able to hear what she got to replace his tea—he rather hoped that she didn't buy some fruit tea that he'd be obligated to drink.

When she returned, Edgeworth blinked in confusion when she placed a tall, plastic cup in front of him. There was plastic over the top and there seemed to be little black balls sitting at the bottom like round, gastropodic creatures. And he rather wondered how he was supposed to drink whatever was inside _if there was plastic covering the cup_. When he looked up to Balfour, silently demanding her to explain the madness that she had placed in front of him, she simply took a seat and smiled. When he stared at her, aggravation beginning to flood his body, her eyes quickly darted to the cup, then back to his eyes.

He looked down and found that she'd placed a napkin beside the cup of whatever-the-blazes-was-underneath-the-plastic. He was about to say "objection!" in a sudden burst of irony, but his eyes were drawn back to the napkin. On closer inspection, he found that there was writing on it.

_If you know Sigaw ng Liyon, offer me some of your drink.  
Careful. They might be watching._

Edgeworth struggled to contain himself, forcing his composure to remain cool and calm as always. What connection would this woman have with Sigaw ng Liyon? They were an organization of ruthless and efficient killers-for-hire, which the police have been secretly investigating for years now. There had been a few leads a year or so back, but Sigaw had been too quick to conceal themselves for the police to find them. So what did this woman have to do with a band of assassins?

Was this the reason for her unusual glances at him? Was this why she seemed so interested in him?

"Ms. Balfour," he said finally. "How…how does one drink this?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize," she said, laughing. "Here, like this." Balfour took the widest straw Edgeworth had ever seen and, with a sharp _pop_, stuck the straw right through the plastic. "It's called bubble tea. Just…try not to choke on the black things."

He looked dubiously down the straw, as though something was going to shoot out and eat his face off, before slowly taking a sip. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the tea inside was the very tea he'd ordered that night, until something round shot up through the straw and nearly went down his throat. "Wh-what is this?" he sputtered in surprise once he'd chewed what he assumed was a little black ball.

"Tapioca pearls," Balfour said, giving a soft laugh. "You've been ordering the same thing for almost half a year, so I thought you could use a change."

"I—I see," he replied. He supposed it wasn't so bad, although he wasn't sure he liked his tea desecrated by the presence of these tapioca pearls. "Would you like some?"

"Ah, sure, thank you, Mr. Edgeworth."

-----

"Pearls, not so close to the street!" Phoenix Wright called to the faraway figure of Pearl Fey, happily rolling off on the aluminum scooter he'd bought her for her birthday.

"Aww, Nick, stop being such a worrywart," Wright's friend and assistant, Maya Fey, said, giving him a playful punch to the arm. "Besides, I bet Pearly's just hungry! Hamburgers, Nick!"

"Yeah, burgers," Wright said wearily, silently bemoaning the emptiness of his wallet on account of Maya's insatiable hunger.

"Mr. Nick, Mr. Nick!" came Pearl's voice as she scooter-ed back to them. Once she reached them, she pointed across the street. "Look! Across the street! Is that Mr. Edgeworth?"

Wright glanced in the direction Pearl was pointing and, to his immense surprise, found that behind the window of the Sago Tea café was one Miles Edgeworth. Offering his drink to a girl. A girl that was sitting with him. A girl in a café that Miles Edgeworth was sitting with. Who was accepting his drink.

"Hey, it _is_ Mr. Edgeworth!" Maya exclaimed happily. "Let's go say hi, Nick!"

"W-wait! Maya!" Wright cried, grabbing Maya by the wrist and pulling her back onto the sidewalk before she could cross the street.

"Wh-what is it, Nick? Was I about to get hit by a car?" asked Maya worriedly. "Oh, Nick, you're always saving my life, and I haven't even done anything to repay you…"

"What? No, it's not that," Wright said. When Maya seemed confused—although that didn't quite surprise him—he sighed. "Look. It looks like Edgeworth's with a friend. I don't think now is the best time to barge in on them, and you know how Edgeworth can get."

"A friend? Do you know her, Nick?" Maya asked, looked to him expectantly.

Both Wright and Maya looked to Pearl in surprise when she gasped. "Mr. Nick, is that Mr. Edgeworth's special someone?" the little girl asked, delight etched all over her face. She already took great delight in her fantasy (or was it?) that Wright was Maya's "special someone," and the fact that Edgeworth now looked to her as though he had a "special someone" would no doubt delight her even more.

"It could be," Wright said, scratching his head. "Even though it…surprises me, I guess."

"Why's that, Nick?" Maya asked curiously. Suddenly, she put a hand to her mouth as realization struck—although Wright couldn't even begin to predict what sort of conclusion she had come to. "Nick! Do _you_ like Mr. Edgeworth?" Wright's jaw dropped in shock.

"What?! No! No, no, no! I'm surprised because Edgeworth—"

"Is Mr. Edgeworth gay?" Maya whispered, covering her mouth and looking up at Wright with an almost frightened look in her eye.

"NO! Okay, well, I don't know, he wears a lot of pink, but the point is," Wright said hurriedly, putting his hands on her shoulders in the hopes that perhaps he could channel his thoughts to her and she'd stop jumping to conclusions, "I doubt that Edgeworth would do anything work-related in a café like that, so maybe she's a…special friend."

"This is so exciting!" Pearl said, putting her hands on her cheeks. "I hope we get to meet her, Mr. Nick."

-----

The exchanges of drink and napkin continued for nearly five weeks, and during that time, Edgeworth sometimes went to the café both Fridays and Saturdays. On two of those five weeks, he dropped by on a Friday so that he and Balfour could discuss things with a little more with their napkin-messages. He was trying to think of somewhere they could speak freely without drawing suspicions from Sigaw, as Balfour had managed to surreptitiously tell him that they were keeping tabs on her actions and whereabouts, but the only place that was even remotely feasible was his own home—mostly due to the fact that everyone working in the café had the idea that they both had a_thing_ for each other. He was rather surprised by how clever Balfour was underneath the cheerful façade she wore while she was playing waitress on Saturdays, and it sometimes made him feel as though he was walking straight into a trap, that perhaps the odd interest she had in him was perhaps because she wanted him _dead_.

"Good evening, Mr. Edgeworth," Balfour said upon his arrival. "Right on time, as always."

"Ms. Balfour," he said as he took a seat across her, once again ignoring her request that he call her by her first name.

"Please, Mr. Edgeworth, I'm sure we've spoken enough that you can call me 'Skye.' Really, _people _might get the wrong idea," she said, looking at him over her glasses, giving Edgeworth the distinct feeling that she was scolding him. He'd caught the emphasis she'd put on "people" this time—she'd never done that before—and, with the smallest of sighs, nodded.

"All right then." He hesitated a moment, feeling quite awkward with himself, until Balfour arched an eyebrow at him. "Skye," he finally said, and she smiled in satisfaction.

"Anyway, I took the liberty of buying you a cup of tea, since you so graciously bought me some last week," Balfour said, smiling and pushing a pink teacup sitting on a napkin towards him. It was still quite warm, and he took a sip before casually peering at the napkin. "So," she continued, "did you win that case you mentioned last week?"

_This is getting hard. We need to talk.  
Ask me about my day if you understand._

"Ah, thank you…Skye," he replied, noting how her tired face seemed to brighten a bit at the sound of her name. "I did indeed get a guilty verdict, although it wasn't surprising considering the defense attorney was a rookie. And what about you? Is it safe to assume that you had a good day at work today?"

"I can't really complain, I suppose," she said with a smile, although that wasn't quite enough to mask the fatigue in her voice. "At least it's Friday, right?"

"Don't you work tomorrow as well?"

"Ah, but I don't spend the day staring at software code. Waitressing doesn't demand the same mental resources," Balfour laughed. "That and I think I might take the day off tomorrow. I need a bit of a rest."

When Balfour briefly glanced at him over her glasses before taking a sip from her own pink teacup, Edgeworth seized his chance. "Then how would you like to…er…spend the day with me?" Edgeworth asked, feeling incredibly awkward regardless that the request was simply to create a safer venue for them to speak about Sigaw.

"I think I'd like that, Mr. Edgeworth."

Unbeknownst to Edgeworth, he and Balfour were indeed being watched as she suspected, although not by the people they expected. Wright, Maya, and Pearl sat at a table across the street from Sago Tea, each with a hamburger in hand but their eyes trained right at the window where Miles Edgeworth was sitting with the girl across from him. It was the third time they'd found him at the café with the same girl, leading them all to the conclusion that she was indeed a "special friend." Their fascination with the love life of Miles Edgeworth was such that even Maya was having trouble paying attention to her hamburger, which was dripping ketchup and mayonnaise onto the tabletop.

"Hey pals!"

Maya looked down at her burger and gave a little squeak of dismay as she hurriedly licked away the dripping ketchup.

"Hey—"

"Mr. Nick, do you think it's okay to say hi to him yet?" Pearl asked, looking up at Wright with her heart-melting eyes.

"I can see I'm not wanted here…After all that a guy goes through, you think he could say hi to a couple of pals…"

"Oh! Detective Gumshoe!" Wright called suddenly when he noticed the detective miserably walking off. At the sound of Wright's voice, Gumshoe turned and, although he was clearly trying to look annoyed, it was obvious that he was happy to have been called back.

"How've you been, Detective Gumshoe?" Maya asked, swallowing her mouthful of burger.

"Been helping out Mr. Edgeworth down at the Prosecutor's Office a lot lately," Gumshoe said, his fake annoyance immediately replaced by his signature crooked smile. "I've been put in charge of making sure all the recent case records are handled properly! And let me tell you, pal, it's not easy!"

"Poor Gumshoe. Sounds like the precinct sent him there to keep him out of their hair," Wright murmured under his breath, feeling pity for the detective wash over him.

"So you hold all the case files? Doesn't that get heavy?" Maya asked, perplexed.

"Er, Maya, I think he actually organizes the files and keeps them neat," Wright said. His friend-assistant never failed to amaze—often in the worst sense possible.

"Is that true, Mr. Detective?" Pearl asked, and immediately Gumshoe's entire figure seemed to slump with dejection.

"You got it, pal," he said miserably. "Not much of a detective, huh?"

"No, no, it's amazing!" Maya said, and Wright wasn't sure if she was simply trying to cheer up Gumshoe or if she genuinely thought that it was indeed amazing. "It's so hard to keep things neat! Just ask Nick—his office is always a mess! I'm always cleaning up after him."

"Hey pal, don't make a lady clean up after you!" Gumshoe told Wright, who wasn't quite sure how he felt about being scolded by a detective that hardly seemed capable of cleaning up after himself. "Well, anyway, what're you guys doing down here?"

"We're watching Mr. Edgeworth and his special someone!" Pearl cried happily, jumping up from her seat and hopping about in front of Gumshoe.

"Say WHAT? Mr. Edgeworth? _Special someone_?" Gumshoe sputtered, his eyes going wide.

Pearl took Gumshoe's hand and turned him to face Sago Tea. "Mr. Edgeworth's in there with his _special someone_!"

"Wow, I didn't think Mr. Edgeworth—Hey!" Gumshoe looked back at them with an irritated glare. "I gotta say, I don't think I like you all spyin' on Mr. Edgeworth!"

"But isn't it exciting, Detective? I mean, it's Mr. Edgeworth we're talking about here!" Maya said happily, giving Gumshoe the very look that the detective was never able to refuse.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Gumshoe stood there rather awkwardly when they all fell silent. It seemed he was waiting for something—and Wright thought he might know what it could be. "Why don't you sit down with us, Detective?" he asked, gesturing to the space across the table from him.

"Well, sure, why not? It's about time for a break, anyway," Gumshoe said without another moment's thought, laughing and squeezing onto the space next to Maya.

"Oh, are you on duty, Detective?" Wright asked curiously.

"I've just got a few errands I need to—"

_bleep bleep bleep_

_bleep bleep bleep_

_bleep bleep bleep_

"Uh oh, pal, I think I'd better go," Gumshoe said, the color leaving his face as he struggled to get out from behind the table.

_KA-PSHT!_

"Scruffy!"

"AAH!"

_KA-PSHT!_

_THUD._

"Scruffy, I thought I told you to deliver those envelopes to the post office!"

_KA-PSHT KA-PSHT!_

"Ow, ow! I—I'll take them r-right now, Ms. von Karma!" Gumshoe wailed, cowering as best he could, although it was quite difficult considering he'd been unable to escape from behind the table.

Franziska von Karma bared her teeth in rage, brandishing her whip at the detective. It seemed for a moment that she was going to give the unfortunate detective a few more lashes for effect, until her eyes fell upon Wright. "Phoenix Wright!" she snapped, raising her whip.

_KA-PSHT KA-PSHT!_

"Ow ow ow! Why are you whipping _me_?" Wright said as von Karma raised her whip again.

"What manner of foolishness are you foolish fools foolishly doing here with my foolishly foolish detective?" she demanded, scowling.

"We're watching Mr. Edgeworth!" Maya said happily, not bothered in the least by von Karma's assault on Wright.

"M-Miles Edgeworth?" von Karma asked, her scowl faltering. However, it was back in full force a split second later. "What is the meaning of this foolishness? Explain, Phoenix Wright!"

"He's right over there," Wright said, gesturing to Sago Tea.

When von Karma caught sight of Edgeworth, she went rather quiet and Wright could almost hear the cogs turning in that whip-obsessed head of hers. He'd never seen Franziska von Karma so deep in thought before, and wondered what could possibly be going through her head to make her think so hard. "Um, Ms. von Karma?" Gumshoe ventured once the silence got a bit too awkward. Her head snapped towards him and he immediately flinched and put up his arms for protection—_Poor Gumshoe's so scared of her_, Wright thought sadly—but no whiplash came.

"Move over, Scruffy."

"Sir?"

_KA-PSHT!_

"Fool! Did you not hear me?" von Karma snapped. "I said move over! I wish to sit down!"

They all watched in numb shock as Gumshoe, who had an incredibly confused look on his face, made room for von Karma. When she realized they were all staring at her, jaws hanging limp from amazement, she visibly tightened her grip on the whip. "What are you fools staring at?" she demanded, although her anger was not enough to hide the fact that she had started blushing. "Is it a crime to take an interest in the welfare of my little brother, Phoenix Wright?"

"Isn't Edgeworth—" Maya began, but Wright nudged her with his elbow.

"Just leave it, Maya," he murmured.

_KA-PSHT!_

"What was that, Phoenix Wright?" von Karma barked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"N-nothing."

As the sun began sinking behind the buildings, Edgeworth and Balfour both got up from their seats. "So, tomorrow around lunchtime?" she said, picking up her bubble tea cup as Edgeworth did the same—as much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd grown slightly fond of bubble tea.

"Right."

"Here's my cell number…and my address," she said, handing him a small, folded paper as she shouldered her purse. He glanced at it and stifled the urge to give her a questioning look.

_Don't complain about money.  
It's for lunch.  
Number, address inside._

Edgeworth stole a quick glance inside the folded paper and found that she had slipped him a fifty-dollar bill. With great force of will, he put the paper into his pocket without another word, all the while inwardly throwing a fit at the fact that she'd given him so much money. With all the things he dressed himself in—his refined cravat, his signature_ maroon_ suit—did she really come to the conclusion that money was a problem for him? Did she somehow come to think that he was not much of a gentleman? But, he forced himself to think, it would not be a good idea to make a scene about that here. He would simply give it back to her tomorrow.

"All right then, I think we should go," Balfour said. As they headed for the door, she called to the manager, "Tita, I'm going to go now. Is it okay if I take the day off tomorrow?" Edgeworth could have sworn that Balfour briefly jerked her head at him, and immediately an overjoyed smile spread across the manager's lined face.

"Of course, of course! You have a good day tomorrow!" said the manager—and rather loudly at that. As Edgeworth and Balfour left the café, he could hear the manager babbling happily in Tagalog to another waitress, "_May _date_ si Skye bukas! Oo! Yung mama ngayon! Napaka suwerte niya…Ang guwapo-guwapo naman_…!"

"All right then," Balfour said once they got outside. "So, see you tomorrow."

"Very well." He was about to walk off towards home, until she stopped him.

"Wait."

He glanced over his shoulder at her, arching an eyebrow. She glanced across the street. "Those people—they only seem to show up when you're here. Are they friends of yours? I recognize that woman there…isn't that Prosecutor von Karma?"

Edgeworth's eyes slowly crossed the street, dreading what he would see, and he nearly crushed his bubble tea with his fist when he found not only Franziska von Karma, but also that blasted _Phoenix Wright_, the Fey girls, and _Gumshoe_. "Franziska! Wright!" he growled, stomping across the street as he struggled to control his rage.

"Um…hey there, Edgeworth," Wright said, giving him a nervous smile.

"How long have you been there?" demanded Edgeworth, his fists quivering in fury.

"Miles Edgeworth, no need to be so angry," von Karma said with a smirk. "There is nothing wrong with being with someone, little brother."

"Yeah, pal—er, sir!" Gumshoe chimed in. "It's about time you loosened up a bit and took a girl out, if you don't mind me sayin'."

Livid, Edgeworth was struck with the sudden impulse to yell out "OBJECTION!" but the moment Pearl Fey went up to him with that ecstatic look on her face, Edgeworth couldn't bring himself to say a word. "Mr. Edgeworth! I'm so happy for you!" she cried, hopping up and down in place. "That's her, right? Can we meet her? Is that okay?" He made the mistake of looking right into Pearl's eyes and found himself battling madly with his willpower to keep from caving in to her adorable face.

And, of course, he lost the battle. Quite miserably, in fact.

"Very well," he said begrudgingly, unable to refuse considering Balfour was just across the street. He turned to her and beckoned her to come over, which she did after giving him a baffled look.

"Um, hello," Balfour said once she arrived.

"Ms. Bal—Skye, these are my…friends," Edgeworth said, a little more bitterly than he would have preferred.

"Nice to meet you," Balfour said, smiling at them. "Er, Mr. Edgeworth…"

"Yes?"

"Do you realize you've crushed your bubble tea?"

* * *

_Hey, readers. I'm happy that you finished reading this. Whee! Anywho, I tried my best to keep everyone in character...I haven't written in a while, fanfic or otherwise, since I've been working so hard on my comics lately, so...yeah._

_Speaking of comics! Wonderment is actually a webcomic, and, since I wanted to plan out the first chapter well, I figured I'd fanfic-ize it. If you'd like to see the webcomic (sadly, comics take much, much longer for me to do, so...), please go here:_

_http://wonderment . smackjeeves . com (take out the spaces...FFdotNet. is ghey and hates URLs) _

_Stay tuned! I'll be a-writing away whenever I'm not comic-ing or homework-ing!_

_PS. Here is the translation of the Tagalog that lady was babbling:_

"May _date_ si Skye bukas! Oo! Yung mama ngayon! Napak suwerte niya...Ang guwapo-guwapo naman...!"

_"Skye has a date tomorrow! Yeah! That man over there! She's so lucky...He's soooo handsome...!"_

_And "Sago" is Tagalog for tapioca pearls. Not much of a name for a cafe...why the heck did Edgeworth even bother with it?_

_**edit 1.27.08:** Dang FFdotNet screwed with some of the formatting, so, among other things, some of the italic text might've run into the text after it. Nothing big...just annoying is all. Hrr. _


	2. Lions

_**Wonderment**_

_Chapter Two: Lions_

* * *

If there ever were a situation Miles Edgeworth would have thought he'd be in, it wasn't quite this. 

There had been nothing of the sort in his life prior. Nothing at all, unless Franziska von Karma counted. And he wasn't quite sure she did.

It was meant to be a façade, a front to fool any potential_observers_, but Miles Edgeworth did not know how to conduct himself in a convincing manner.

Women had nothing to do with prosecuting. Dates had nothing to do with prosecuting. And if he went about it as though he _was_prosecuting—no, he couldn't even begin to think of any way he would approach the situation as a prosecutor, although he rather imagined it could proceed in this manner:

"That's quite a stunning dress. It looks quite nice on you."

"Oh, it's nothing, really. You're just saying that."

"OBJECTION! Witness—I have here evidence that proves your dress is indeed—"

He forced his imagination to stop at that point, the scenario becoming too ridiculous for him to stomach. Maya Fey and her rather bizarre imagination vaguely came to mind, which didn't exactly make him feel any better about his predicament. Actually, any thought of Maya Fey and her little cousin's antics did not make him feel any better. They—and the rest of the people he was sometimes reluctant to call his friends—had been so irritatingly _adamant_, and before he'd even had the chance to say a word in protest, Maya, Pearl, and Gumshoe, sadly, had arrived at the conclusion that he and Balfour would have a brilliant wedding in a botanical garden and take a honeymoon to some god-forsaken place in the bowels of Southeast Asia, where he would contract an infection that would so badly incapacitate his left leg such that Balfour would lovingly massage it every night before he went to bed for the next sixty years. Wright had been quaking with silent laughter, and Franziska had sat there with the smuggest smirk he'd ever set eyes on. And, after the whole ordeal, he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed and sorry for Balfour. She must have been quite shocked at the vivid imaginations of his…friends…and he wouldn't be surprised if she had been traumatized by the ordeal.

With a sigh, he got up from his desk and picked up his briefcase. He hadn't really gotten much work done that morning, but he had agreed to pick up Balfour around twelve-thirty, and it was nearly noon. Edgeworth hoped to high heaven that he wouldn't meet Gumshoe or Franziska on his way out of the Prosecutors' Office, but, knowing his luck, he would run into both of them…at the same time…with a mass of prosecutors in immediate vicinity that would be able to hear Gumshoe's enthusiastic babbling.

But it seemed he was lucky—for now, at least. As he passed by the others in the office, he found that there had been a murder at an art gallery the night before and, as it happened, Franziska had been put in charge of the investigation. That would mean she wouldn't have time to harass him about anything for quite some time—although he knew she would somehow find a time and inconvenient venue to rant about perfection to him. But Edgeworth resigned himself to enjoying the respite while he could as well as taking care to make sure it lasted as long as possible.

The journey to Balfour's apartment was quite uneventful—so uneventful, in fact, that by the time he parked his car in a visitor's space of her apartment building's small lot, he couldn't help but be suspicious that everything had gone so well for him. But, regardless of his deep suspicions that his day was going so well because something terrible was going to later befall him, Balfour, or someone connected to them, he decided to go up to Balfour's apartment, feeling it impertinent for him to wait in his car for her. Considering the fact that she must have assumed he wasn't very gentlemanly since she'd given him _fifty_ dollars, he didn't want to give her any more reason to doubt his manners.

As he went up the stairs to the second floor, he couldn't help but notice that the entire building seemed to be quite old and beaten up, with paint peeling off the walls and an overall dank feeling to the place. He rather wondered why she was living in a place like this—he knew software developers could be paid quite a lot, and she should, theoretically, afford to live in a place that was less…damp…even if she wasn't that high up on the developer ladder yet.

The door to her flat, just like the walls, had peeling paint hanging off of it. He examined it for a moment before giving the door a curt knock. There was a muffled sound of something falling to the floor, and, a few moments later, the door opened ever so slightly. Edgeworth could make out the dark shape of someone and, it seemed, that person could make out the shape of _him_.

"Mr. Edgeworth!" Balfour said in surprise, opening the door. "I'm sorry, I'm almost ready. Er…please come in."

"Thank you," he replied.

As he followed her inside, he noticed that she was holding a tube of antibiotic cream in her hand and seemed to be in quite a hurry to clean up something in her tiny kitchen. From the small living room, he chanced a glance at what she was doing and caught a glimpse of a box of gauze pads and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide before she hurriedly shoved them out of sight. "Ms. Balfour," he said as she returned, straightening her glasses, "are you all right?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," she said nonchalantly, although Edgeworth wasn't convinced in the least. "I'll just change my shirt before we go. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Edgeworth replied, and Balfour disappeared into the single bedroom of the apartment. He noticed she seemed to be moving rather stiffly—it seemed a bit unnatural.

As she was changing, he took the opportunity to peer around her small apartment. Although everything looked a little old and beaten up, the entire place was spotless and quite organized. Even the table in the far corner playing host to three rather large LCD monitors—as well as two sets of wired keyboards and mice and some other little devices he wasn't familiar with—was pristine and orderly. Edgeworth couldn't even begin to fathom why she would need three computers—or two computers and one extra monitor, it seemed—but he supposed that he wasn't nearly computer literate enough to understand such things.

When Balfour emerged, her glasses were gone and she was wearing a turtleneck shirt, like she always seemed to be wearing, although today's hue was that of a deep blue. After seeing the gauze and hydrogen peroxide in the kitchen, Edgeworth wondered if perhaps she kept wearing turtleneck shirts to hide something. Injuries, perhaps?

"Well, shall we go?" she asked him, smiling as she shouldered her purse.

"Just a moment, Ms. Balfour," Edgeworth said, and when she raised an eyebrow at him, he added reluctantly, "Skye." He pulled out the fifty-dollar bill she'd slipped him the day before and held it out to her. "I can't accept this."

"Just keep it, all right?" she said quietly, frowning. When it was obvious he wasn't going to comply, she moved close to him and grabbed his arm so he couldn't move away, muttering, "Look, Mr. Edgeworth. If I can tell you things that will help you catch Sigaw ng Liyon, you and your people will be doing all the work. It's the least I can do. Please."

"I can't."

"You're such a gentleman," she murmured, plucking the money out of his fingers. But just when he thought he'd won, she stuffed it into his pocket and walked off to the door before he could say a word. "Should we get going, Mr. Edgeworth? I'm a little hungry," she said, her voice back to its normal volume.

"…Very well."

Once they were safely buckled into his car—which seemed to make Balfour a bit nervous, either because it was obviously very expensive or because she didn't particularly like riding in cars—Edgeworth started driving for a small café he knew of in a mall on the outskirts of the city, where he was quite sure none of his…friends…would be able to find him. They sat in silence, although Balfour seemed to be worried about something, as she kept peering out the windows. "Is something bothering you?" he asked, giving her a sidelong glance.

"Mr. Edgeworth, someone may be tailing us today," she said, returning the glance. "He's already…very suspicious of me and this 'date,' so we won't be able to talk about anything until we're sure it can be private. Actually, he's…he's _been_ suspicious ever since you showed up at Sago Tea."

"I see. Is he connected with Sigaw ng Liyon?" Edgeworth asked, although he was sure he already knew the answer.

"Yes," she replied, and she looked rather perturbed. "He…he makes me call him Leon, but I think his real name is something like…Meng? Joe? I—I can't be sure."

"He—_makes­_ you?" he asked in slight alarm.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Edgeworth, but I'd prefer if we could talk about this when you're less…distracted," she said, giving him a small smile and eyeing the steering wheel. "Anyway, I can't be sure if he'll be the one tailing us, but in any case, we can't talk about anything in the open."

"I understand."

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence, Edgeworth, thankfully, concentrating on driving and Balfour periodically peering out the windows to check if they were being followed. When they arrived at the mall without anything particularly disastrous happening and were in the vast lot, Balfour said, "I think we were followed. Just so you know."

"All right. And Ms. Ba—Skye," Edgeworth said before she could get out of the car, "I believe it pertinent that, since you've insisted that I call you 'Skye,' you do the same to me when we are in public. Especially if someone is suspicious of you."

"O-okay, then," she said, looked almost surprised. "Miles, then, right?"

Edgeworth simply nodded as he got out of the car, Balfour following suit. Wordlessly they headed for the mall entrance, although Edgeworth noticed that she was a little closer to him than he would have liked. Her face, though, looked rather troubled, so he didn't say anything about it and wondered if perhaps she'd caught sight of the person following them. She relaxed once they entered the mall and even seemed rather happy when people began jostling them as they went by. "They wouldn't think of doing anything with these many people around," Balfour murmured to him, and he could just barely make out what she said amid the dull noise of the mall.

"Edgey-poo!"

"E-Edgey-poo?" Balfour said in shock as Edgeworth slapped his hand to his forehead in aggravation, shaking his head. Why her? Why now?

"Oh, Edgey-poo, I never thought I'd see you again!"

A woman in a bizarre suit reminiscent of those worn in bad sci-fi space shows appeared before them, an enormous glass helmet over her head and a rather bizarre-looking tape recorder strapped to her front. "A-aah, who—what—" Balfour sputtered, taking a step back in surprise. The woman made an irritated noise and pulled the helmet off her head, revealing her completely grayed hair and her rather wrinkly face. She gave one look at Balfour and sneered,

"Ms. Oldbag, it's been—a while," Edgeworth said, struggling to keep his voice civil. Although he thought she probably wouldn't even bat an eye if he called her an irritating old wench, he decided that it probably wouldn't leave the best impression of him on Balfour.

"Oh, it's been ages, Edgey-poo! Not since that brute Engarde's trial! Where you gave me gum, remember?" Oldbag crooned happily. "Did you get the coffee kit that I sent you last Christmas? I knew you'd love it!"

"Oh, yes, it was…interesting," he replied, and Oldbag seemed to glow with happiness. He wondered if he should be guilty that he'd sent said coffee kit to Prosecutor Godot at the state prison he was being held at, who had mailed him a letter expressing his immense delight at the gift. But after a moment, Edgeworth decided he didn't feel guilty at all and was even struck with a sudden idea that may get Oldbag out of his hair.

"Ms. Oldbag, I'd like to introduce you to Skye Balfour," he said with a thin smile.

"Hello there!" Balfour said, immediately going into waitress mode and giving Oldbag the cheeriest smile Edgeworth has seen yet. Oldbag scowled at her, clutching her helmet defensively.

"Whippersnapper! Honestly! In my day, people used to properly greet their elders!" Oldbag prattled. "Nobody treats their elders with any respect anymore! Not even a 'how do you do' or a 'pleased to meet you,' honestly, is that any way for a young girl to treat a developed woman like me? And look at that hair! Not even done up nicely like mine is; reminds me of that rude defense attorney with the pointy hair who's always insulting me and accusing me of ridiculous things like murdering poor old Jack Hammer and Juan Corrida!"

_ rata-tata-tata-tata-tata-tat  
_

"M-Ms. Oldbag," Edgeworth interrupted, as Balfour's eyes had widened in alarm when Oldbag pointed her ridiculous—and incredibly harmless—gun at her, and immediately her scowl changed back to a smile.

"Yes, Edgey-dear?"

"Erm, this is Skye Balfour. She's my—hmm—girlfriend," he finally managed to say, unable to keep a vaguely sinister smile off his face.

The look of shock and indignation on Oldbag's face put a rather happy, fuzzy feeling in the pit of Edgeworth's stomach, as though he had a fresh cup of tea in hand and a little puppy in his arms. "Er, er," Balfour sputtered, and when Edgeworth shot her a quick glance, she immediately composed herself and said, "Y-yes! I am, indeed. Miles is a wonderful man." Oldbag seemed to be getting more and more upset as the moments marched on and Edgeworth couldn't help but feel guilty that he was so pleased with her unease.

"Like a little whelp like you could ever—hey! How dare you ignore me like that! Where do you think you're going? I'm in charge of security here—you have listen to me!" Oldbag shrieked as Balfour took Edgeworth by the hand and began leading him away. Edgeworth could barely believe what was happening as Balfour looked at Oldbag over her shoulder and gave her a cheeky wave.

"That woman is…unique, isn't she?" Balfour said, letting go of his hand once they'd lost sight of Oldbag. "Eh, Edgey-poo?"

"Ugh," Edgeworth said, shaking his head in disgust as the tea-and-puppy feeling faded away.

He stood there looking quite uneasy, clutching his arm in silence. "Well, she's gone now," Balfour said, smiling and looking up at him in apparent hopes that he'd stop looking so troubled. "You must've been incredibly nice to her if she acts like that."

"The problem is that I wasn't," Edgeworth mumbled. "She was a witness for two cases some time ago, and I had to—_cajole_ information out of her. Now she sends me ridiculous things like that…that coffee kit."

"Ah, I see."

Balfour watched him carefully, as though wondering what to do, before he finally managed to get a grip on himself. Now was _not_ particularly the best time to be showing weakness, especially if a person affiliated with a group of assassins was following them. He drew himself up and, managing to give Balfour a smile without straining too hard, began leading the way to the café. "I suppose you're hungry now, correct?" he said as she followed.

"I—I guess so."

The café Edgeworth had decided to take her was a small French café nestled in the far corner of the busy mall. It seemed slightly out of place next to the designer clothing stores and the multimedia store, as though it had been shoved there because there was no room anywhere else, but it had a quaint sort of backcountry charm that almost seemed in defiance of the modern shops around it. Edgeworth rather liked it there—he'd eaten there a few times before and quite enjoyed the subdued atmosphere inside. It didn't get very many customers at a time, so it would be quite easy for them to take account of all the people inside.

There were a few customers already eating when they were seated, but when a waiter brought over their complimentary bread, Balfour had subtly pointed over toward a two-person table near the entrance of the café. A man in a dress shirt was seated alone with his back to them, his meticulously parted black hair and leather briefcase giving him the general ambience of a businessman on his lunch break. "That's him—that's Leon," she murmured as she spread butter over a slice of bread. "I saw his face before he sat down…Usually he doesn't dress that way …"

"I'll call in the police and have him arrested immediately," Edgeworth muttered as he glanced over the menu.

"N-no, don't do that!" she hissed. When she realized she'd nearly slipped up, she took care to make it look as though she'd spilled something onto herself. Once she finished, she seemed to force a rather droopy smile on her face. "Please, Mr. Edg—Miles—they might kill my father if you do."

Edgeworth looked at her in shock before taking a bite of bread. The smile on her face and the urgent statement she'd made—they didn't go well together at all and made him wonder if he'd heard her properly. But he could see the anguish in her eyes and the way the corners of her smiling mouth kept twitching and knew that he'd heard her correctly. "I understand," he murmured before eating the rest of his slice of bread.

By the time the waiter returned to take their orders, Balfour seemed to have successfully repressed any of the worry she'd displayed earlier and was cheerfully chattering away about some television program she was hooked on. Thankfully, she seemed to have enough things to talk about that Edgeworth needn't add much to the conversation other than an occasional "ah" or "is that so?" when she took a breath. He was quite grateful, for while he was able to feign confidence in his knowledge in the courtroom, feigning casual conversations was a completely different story. Among the many things Miles Edgeworth had difficulties with, being casual—and in particular, being casual around women—was one of them.

When their food arrived, bouillabaisse for Edgeworth and pasta for Balfour—although Edgeworth couldn't quite understand why a _French_ café was serving pasta in the first place—their conversation, or rather, Balfour's monologue, died down a bit. For a while, they ate in relative silence, apart from Balfour continually insisting that he try some of the pasta until he finally agreed on the condition that she try the bouillabaisse as well. During the entire time, though, Balfour was constantly shooting quick glances over at Leon, who was still there looking as innocent as ever while he ate some sort of cake.

"Thank you so much for lunch!" Balfour said, her voice raised ever so slightly, once Edgeworth had put down money for the bill.

"Ah, it was my pleasure, Skye," Edgeworth replied, doing the same as he left he added a few extra dollars for the waiter's tip. "Shall we go?"

"Miles, do you want to go to Greenberry for some yogurt? My treat," Balfour said, clutching his arm and leaning against him as they passed Leon, whose head bobbed up ever so slightly as they went by.

"I—I'd like that. I believe there's one a few exits away," Edgeworth replied, hoping that Balfour was simply bluffing.

Once they had gotten into Edgeworth's car, Balfour gave a dry laugh. "You know we're not really going to Greenberry, right?" she asked. Edgeworth noticed that she had carefully leaned back against the seat and only relaxed once she was touching it. Whatever it was that was wrong with her must be something to do with her back, which would fit with her odd stiffness from earlier.

"Of course," Edgeworth said as he started the car, making a mental note to ask her about it. "Although I do have some ice cream at home if you'd like some."

"Ah, is that so?" Balfour said with a grin.

"I believe so," he said, and he could've sworn that she had given a small snort of amusement. "I closed all the windows and blinds before I left for work, so it should be safe to speak there."

"That's good. Thank you so much for this, Mr. Edgeworth," Balfour said, and in the brief moment Edgeworth chanced a look at her, he found she was staring at him with utmost gratitude etched all over her face.

As they drew closer and closer to Edgeworth's home, Balfour grew quieter and quieter. She'd made a little bit of conversation as they were leaving, but by the time he'd parked his car and led her to his apartment, her mouth had been fixed into a perpetual "oh" shape and her eyes had been glimmering with amazement. It made him rather nervous, to say the least, especially now that he knew what kind of a place she lived in herself. His apartment was probably three times the size of hers, and much less _damp_ as well, and he couldn't repress the guilt—or unease, or embarrassment, or whatever it was—beginning to stew in his stomach.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Ms. Balfour," Edgeworth said as he locked the door behind him.

"Wow," he heard Balfour whisper before apprehensively taking a seat on his maroon sofa.

"I wasn't joking when I said I had ice cream," Edgeworth said as he removed his jacket and hanged it on a rack near the door. "Would you like some?"

"No, no, I'm fine, Mr. Edgeworth."

Balfour seemed quite interested in the bamboo plant he'd placed on the coffee table sitting in front of the sofa. It was a gift from someone at the Prosecutors' Office and, as it had such a lovely red pot, he didn't have the heart to get rid of it. Edgeworth watched her for a moment, waiting to see if she was going to ask a question, until his eyes drifted to a patch of red on the back of her shirt. He arched an eyebrow and watched it for a moment, until he realized that the red patch was beginning to spread without Balfour seeming bothered in the least.

"Ms. Balfour, you're bleeding."

"What? I'm not bleeding," she said, looking alarmed, although Edgeworth was sure she was about to bite her lip.

"Take off your shirt."

"Mr. Edgeworth, I'm not sure I like where this is going," Balfour said almost accusatorily. "I didn't think you were that kind of person."

"Ms. Balfour, please take off your shirt."

"I'm fine, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Ms. Balfour—"

"Really, I'm okay!"

Edgeworth scowled in irritation and slammed his hand against the back of the sofa.

"You're bleeding. Shirt. Now."

The look of surprise and indignation on Balfour's face made Edgeworth wonder if perhaps he should have tried harder to keep his courtroom voice _in_ the courtroom. She stared at him for a moment before slowly pulling her shirt off, much to Edgeworth's general surprise—and also to his dismay, once he realized that she probably wouldn't have anything under said shirt apart from a bra. He began to feel a slight panic and opened his mouth to say something, to tell her that she should probably do that in the bathroom or kitchen or somewhere _he_ wasn't, but Balfour had already wrenched her head out of the turtleneck's collar and was carefully folding it up, her upper body indeed clad in nothing but a skin-colored bra.

"T-turn around," Edgeworth demanded once he got a hold of himself, a little more forcefully than he probably should have. Balfour gave him an almost miserable look before slowly getting to her feet and turning around.

Edgeworth could hardly believe what he saw. There was a crosshatch pattern of faded scars decorating her back, as though some sort of wildcat had torn up her rather pale skin. The crosshatched scars on her back—they were consistent with how Sigaw ng Liyon left their victims after they'd killed them. What could Balfour possibly be doing with Sigaw for them to keep her alive but scarred in such a way? Considering they made a business out of killing people, there had to be something they wanted from her, or else they would have just killed her and been done with it, wouldn't they? He stared in horror at a set of raw gashes over her left shoulder blade, one of which was oozing blood onto her back. "M-Ms. Balfour! What is the meaning of this?" Edgeworth sputtered, leaning in closer to examine her. The gashes looked rather recent and seemed to be newly clotted—was this the reason for the first-aid items in her kitchen?

"I—it's—"

"Wait a moment. We should clean you up first," said Edgeworth, managing to regain his composure. "I've some antiseptic and gauze. Wait here." Without another word, he strode off to his bathroom and threw open the medicine cabinet, snatching a bag of cotton balls, a never-used antiseptic bottle, and the boxes of gauze pads and band-aids that had collected dust over the time he had them.

Balfour was still standing where he left her, looking quite miserable, almost like a child that had just been caught telling a lie. He put the first-aid materials on the coffee table and gestured to the sofa. "Sit down," he said as he tore the safety seal off the antiseptic bottle, taking a seat behind her. She gave the smallest of sighs and sat down with her back to him as he soaked a cotton ball with antiseptic. "Now, explain yourself. How did this happen?"

"Leon did it. Leon did all of that."

Edgeworth paused in the middle of wiping the blood from her gashes and stared a moment. "How did he manage this? And why did you let him?" he said heatedly.

"It's not like I want him to, all right?" Balfour retorted, the anger in her voice startling Edgeworth. "If I don't do everything he says, let him do anything he wants, he threatens to kill my father, okay?"

"I—I'm sorry," Edgeworth said, hesitating a moment until the surprise wore off. "Why are they threatening your father?"

Balfour took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, almost as though she was steeling herself for what she was going to say. "Mr. Edgeworth, I want you to understand first that they have told me not to associate with the police or my father will die," she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "That is why they've been suspicious ever since you showed up at Sago Tea. Luckily, I don't think they realize how much I know about prosecutors and their roles in investigations."

"I understand. I'm almost done cleaning your wounds up—let's speak once I'm finished," he said as he began covering her wounds with gauze pads. "I don't have any medical tape, so I suppose band-aids will have to do."

"Thank you."

When he finished, he got up and gathered up the trash before heading for his bedroom. "I'll get you a shirt to wear," he said without waiting for a response. Dropping the trash into the wastebasket in his bedroom, he pulled open a drawer in his dresser, rummaging amongst his sleepwear before pulling out a red, button-down shirt. He rather hoped she wouldn't comment on how pink it seemed—despite it being distinctly _maroon_, although people never seemed to see it his way and often came to unsettling conclusions about his personal _tastes_, be it taste in colors or…otherwise.

"Here, put this on," Edgeworth said when he returned, holding the shirt out to Balfour. "I thought it would be easier for you to put on if it was buttoned down the front." She smiled at him as she took the shirt, although he thought her smile was a little too big for his liking.

"Thank you!" she said happily. They stared at each other for a moment, silence hanging in the air, until Balfour opened her mouth to say something. Edgeworth sighed and gave her a rather irritated glare.

"It's_maroon_, not pink, Ms. Balfour. Maroon."

"Ah. Thanks for clearing that up."

"In any case," Edgeworth said, looking away and frowning as she visibly stifled a laugh, "please put that on. I'll put your shirt in the wash."

"Oh, no, it's fine! I'll just wash it when I get home," Balfour said, clutching her shirt protectively.

"Just give it to me. I'll run it with my laundry as well. And _yes_, I do have clothing that isn't red," Edgeworth replied in slight exasperation, holding out his hand. She stared at him dubiously for a moment, as though evaluating the truth of his words, before she reluctantly handed him her shirt.

"Thank you," she said lightly, although her face betrayed her doubt.

By the time Edgeworth had finished putting the clothes in the washer—it had taken him a few minutes to actually _find_ the articles of clothing he had that weren't red—Balfour was dozing in the sofa, hunched over with her elbows resting on her thighs and her chin in her hands. "Ms. Balfour," Edgeworth said quietly as he sat down in the armchair across the sofa, and immediately her eyes fluttered open. "Are you ready to talk now?"

"Yes." She straightened up and settled herself in the sofa before fixing Edgeworth with a determined gaze. "Please ask me what you need to know for your investigations and I'll see if I can answer."

Edgeworth returned her gaze silently as he sifted through what information he did have on Sigaw ng Liyon. The currently ongoing, and very secret, investigations have turned up only the facts that Sigaw was the culprit for the murders of rather shady people that associated with the criminal underworld. They worked similarly to Shelley de Killer—Sigaw had clients that wanted certain people dead, and they killed them, leaving their victims with a set of three gashes on the chest, as though a lion had clawed straight across the skin. The first few occurrences of their signature marks were all but passed off as nothing but peculiarities, but when people all over the country, namely those disreputable people associating with the criminal underworld that the police would rather like to arrest, began turning up dead with the marks on them, an investigation into the incidents was launched. They managed to corner a Sigaw member a few years ago after he had killed someone associated with the mafia, and before he shot himself in he head, he had spat at the police that Sigaw ng Liyon would never be captured. However, after that, it seemed they went into hiding for year or so, for there was nary a peep out of them and there were no murders emblazoned with their mark.

"Ms. Balfour, have you actually met them? The Sigaw members?" Edgeworth asked finally, once he had finished sorting through his thoughts.

"Yes. I don't know their real names, but," she paused a moment and seemed to sigh a bit, "I'm sure the people Leon have been taking me to see are the leaders. They're all Filipino, and I think they might all be close relatives."

"Ah, that would make sense considering the name. I believe 'Sigaw ng Liyon' roughly translates to 'Lion's Yell'?" Edgeworth asked, looking to Balfour, and she nodded. "I suppose that explains why Leon prefers to be called such. 'Joe' is much less impressive." Balfour let out a quiet laugh, but quickly stifled it when Edgeworth raised an eyebrow at her. "So why does this Leon take you to see the leaders?"

"This may sound weird, Mr. Edgeworth, but…the leaders actually—they actually seem like okay people," Balfour said, a rather strained look on her face. Edgeworth stared at her skeptically. "I know, I know, but…whenever Leon brings me there, they have me eat dinner with them, they ask me about how I've been doing—almost as though I was a family friend."

"I find that hard to believe," Edgeworth said, arching an eyebrow. She gave him a rather pleading look.

"I know, but that's how they act. Th-they don't know what Leon does to me. They think—they think he's very good to me. I think all the leaders' children are like that…I don't think they're nearly as outwardly kind as the leaders themselves," Balfour said, looking to the floor sadly. "Every so often they remind me that they need me for something, and if I don't cooperate they'll kill my father. They're—" She paused and bit her lip, and it looked to Edgeworth that she was mentally steeling herself to continue. "—They're the ones that hurt him."

"What? What did they do to him?"

Balfour looked back up at Edgeworth, and he was surprised—although he really shouldn't have been—to see tears welling up in her eyes. "They tell me that at first my father was friends with the leader until they started abusing the power my father had over the seaport, and my father knew something that probably could have gotten the leader convicted for murder. Sigaw stopped him from getting to the trial to tell the prosecutor and threatened him for years to shut him up…" At this point, it seemed too much for Balfour to hold in, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. "A few years ago he tried to tell the police, but they—they beat him very badly. He had—he had brain damage from it and now his memory is in pieces. Sometimes he has trouble recognizing me." She attempted to set her face into a determined scowl, but it was clear she was struggling to keep from outright sobbing. Edgeworth felt a wave of pity for Balfour flood him; it was one thing for one's father to die, but it was another thing entirely for one's father to be unable to recognize his own daughter.

"Where is your father now?" Edgeworth asked. At that, Balfour's face seemed to determinedly tighten even more.

"I—I had to check h-him into a-a m-mental ward," she said, her speech broken by small sobs and the corners of her mouth twitching. "It's—it's so e-expensive, b-but I c-can't leave him a-at home by h-himself…M-my mom d-died when I w-was little s-so he'd b-be all alone…Th-that's part of th-the reason wh-why I live in s-s-such a dingy pl-place."

"I'm—I'm sorry," Edgeworth said, giving her a mournful look. It seemed almost surreal to him that he was seeing her in such a distressed, wretched state—she always seemed so cheerful, even to the point of physical nausea, that Edgeworth wondered what sorts of knots she had tied her mind into to get herself to smile like she did.

"Forgive me if this sounds insensitive, but," Edgeworth said after they'd sat there silently for a few moments, "why didn't they simply kill him if he was going to be such a liability?"

"F-from wh-what I understand," Balfour said as tears dripped from her chin, "th-they only kill i-if it's for a cli-client. If it's f-for their o-own ends, they prefer t-to watch the p-people suffer…It m-makes no sense…it w-would leave liabilities e-everywhere, but th-that's what th-they do…"

"In what way did they abuse your father's power?"

"H-he was in charge of c-customs at the s-seaport," Balfour said, wiping her face dry with a sleeve. "I assume th-that's what they w-wanted…"

"Do you know why?"

She sat a moment, absently fiddling with a button on the shirt she was wearing as she thought, before looking back to him. "S-sometimes I hear them talking about d-deliveries as Leon and I arrive. I—I think they run a door-to-door delivery business," she said thoughtfully. After a moment, her eyes widened in realization. "I think that's how th-they meet with their clients. I think you're supposed to request a certain delivery—or something like that. I—I don't know the name of their service…"

"Ah, that could potentially be quite helpful," Edgeworth murmured, carefully making a mental note of it. "And where do you go when you meet with them?"

"I think it's the seaport that Leon takes me to. We always go at night, and he always—he always blindfolds me," she said, looking away rather miserably.

"Then I will have the police conduct a careful investigation of the seaport," Edgeworth said, and before Balfour could protest, he added, "I will make sure to tell them that secrecy is of the utmost importance, so don't worry, Ms. Balfour."

Balfour looked at him blankly for a moment and seemed to be racking her mind for more information. He waited patiently; she'd already given him information that he could put to use—albeit rather vague information, but helpful nonetheless—and considering the fact that she didn't know any of the Sigaw members' actual names, he couldn't imagine what more she could tell him. "I—I don't have anything else to tell you. I'm—I'm sorry, this was all useless," she finally said. "I—I've just wasted your time." She gave him the most apologetic look that he'd ever seen someone give a prosecutor.

"No, no, Ms. Balfour, it wasn't useless in the least," Edgeworth said. "I now know that they operate around the seaport with a delivery business. Now the investigation team will actually have something to investigate. And that, Ms. Balfour, is the truth."

That seemed to cheer her up a bit, and she straightened up, wiping her face dry. "I could take you to see my father if you like," she said, giving him a small smile. "If we're lucky, we might be able to get him to talk about Sigaw."

"Ah, that could help quite a bit," Edgeworth said, and Balfour's smile grew a little bigger.

"Then…tell me when you're free and I can take you."

They sat there silently, Edgeworth rather unsure of what to do next and Balfour seemingly in the same boat. He was just thinking about getting up to check on the washing machine when his stomach gave a loud gurgle, which made Balfour giggle a bit. The food at the French café wasn't particularly filling since the portions were rather small, and he hadn't really been in the mood to eat at the time. Getting up and looking away to mask his embarrassment—although all it really did was _confirm_ it—he headed for his kitchen and, before pulling open the door of his freezer, he looked over his shoulder at her.

"Would you like some ice cream, Ms. Balfour? I did say that I had some."

"Ah, that'd be great. Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth."

* * *

_Allo again, readers! Thanks again for reeeading. I'm sorry this chapter is a little boring...It's one of those obligatory chapters that y'gotta have to establish the situation. The next one should be more fun! I promise. _

_I hope Oldbag was in character. Ahaha. She was fun to put in. Rata-tata-tata-tata-tat! For some reason, FFdotNet hates asterisks too, sooo. Yep.  
_


	3. Fairs

_**Wonderment**_

_Chapter Three: Fairs_

_

* * *

_Phoenix Wright sat on a park bench, staring at Maya and Pearl Fey in wonderment.

Or disbelief.

He wasn't quite sure which yet.

"Come _on_, Nick, it'll be fun!" Maya said, her eyes going from pleading to heart wrenching.

"Yes, yes, Mr. Nick! Please?" Pearl chimed, bobbing up and down before him.

"I know going to the county fair will be fun," Wright said, but before either of the girls could get a word out, he held up his hands, "_but!_ Why do we have to drag Edgeworth along too? And _why_ Franziska von Karma? I mean, I understand Gumshoe and Maggey, and _maybe_ Edgeworth, but _Franziska?_"

Maya looked at him as though the answer was as clear as the cloudless sky above them. "Franziska isn't so bad, Nick!" she said, and Wright couldn't help but stare at her dumbly. He could feel the cold sweat coming just at the thought of having to be around von Karma in a county fair setting. Or in any setting. Previous experience proved that no matter the locale, she never failed to bring him pain and misery. Sometimes she was actually helpful and he was spared the misery, although that fact did little to console him. He rather hoped that Pearl would object to having Franziska tagging along, as she didn't quite like her, but his hopes weren't too high as Pearl would probably never think of objecting to something that would make her Mystic Maya happy.

"I…uh…well, I suppose we could ask her if we happen to run into her…" Wright said, stroking his chin thoughtfully to mask his reluctance and hoping to high heaven that Maya would find that acceptable.

"Great! We can ask her when we go to the Prosecutors' Office to ask Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Sur—w-wait a minute…HOLD IT!" Wright exclaimed. Maya and Pearl looked at each other in what Wright assumed to be shock, and he was just about to embrace the guilt that had begun frothing in his stomach when they both grinned and clapped.

"Wow, Mr. Nick, that was amazing!" Pearl said excitedly.

"Yeah, that was great! I felt like I was really in court for a minute," said Maya, nodding eagerly. "Do 'objection!' now, Nick!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Wright said in exasperation, and the two girls gave him expectant looks. "Why do we need to go to the Prosecutors' Office? I can just call Edgeworth."

"But then we can't ask Franziska if you do that," Maya said, waggling her finger at him.

"Ah. Guess not," Wright said, and he could definitely feel the cold sweat coming.

Maya hopped off the park bench and grinned in excitement. "We should go ask right now if we're going to the fair today! Come on, Nick! Hurry!" she said, the level of her enthusiasm completely inversely proportional to Wright's own.

"Right then…" he said reluctantly, begrudgingly shoving his hands into his pockets as he began following Maya and Pearl out of the park, Pearl swerving around on the scooter she loved so.

As they passed, Wright glanced at an ice cream parlor that had set up shop across the street from the park entrance. He stifled a smile at the sight of a young boy's grimace after tasting his mother's green ice cream. "It's icky, Mommy!" the boy said, cringing. "What flavor is it?"

"It's green tea. You don't like it?" the mother said, giving a soft laugh as she took her son's hand and began leading him away.

Green tea ice cream never sat well with Wright's taste buds—he thought that things that weren't sweet or fruity had no business being flavors of ice cream. Though green tea did seem like the sort of ice cream flavor that someone like Edgeworth would like. Then he wondered if Edgeworth was even the sort of person who would eat ice cream.

And then an idea suddenly struck him.

"Hey Maya! Pearls!" Wright called, trotting off after the pair. When they turned to look at him, he pointed in the opposite direction of their travels. "Edgeworth's probably off work now. What if…what if we went to check if he's at that café? That café across the street from the burger place?"

As the word "burger" left Wright's lips, he knew he had Maya—hook, line, and sinker. Her face immediately lit up and she practically flew back to him, grabbing his hand and beginning to lead him away. "Well, what are we waiting for, Nick? Let's go!" she said eagerly, and as Wright was pulled off toward the café, he glanced back at Pearl and found that she had the most delighted smile on her face that Wright had ever seen, her eyes fixed on his hand and the vice grip Maya had on it.

There was nothing Miles Edgeworth hated more than being confused.

Confusion began sprouting up in his mind—confusion over where Sigaw could possibly be hiding at the seaport, confusion over _what_ Sigaw could possibly be doing at the seaport, and confusion over why he kept going to the pathetic excuse for a café that was Sago Tea and actually buying their tea. And then drinking it. All of it.

At first, he thought he was drinking it—_all of it_—to have a proper pretense of actually _wanting to the be there_, but after he thought a little more, he realized something that rather frightened him.

Was he _getting used to_ the tea?

Absurd.

Right?

Sitting at his usual table by the window on a late Friday afternoon that he didn't quite feel like spending at home, Miles Edgeworth stared bitterly at the tea that he never thought he would grow to accept. The teacup sat there in its quaint little saucer, empty, mocking his anguish, as though to say, "What a sucker. He drank it all." He wasn't sure how long he was staring at it, but it must have been long enough for one Skye Balfour to stop at his table.

"Um…you've been staring at your cup for a long time, Miles," she said, leaning down to peer at his face. "Did the tea make you sick?"

"Ah, no, I'm fine," he said quickly, inwardly kicking himself for being so absentminded. Balfour smiled at him.

"In that case, I'll just take it then, all right? That way you don't have to be angry with it," said Balfour, visibly trying to stifle a grin. And then she added, "If that's what you were doing, anyway."

"Ah. Thank you," he said.

He peered around the café as she turned to leave with the wretched teacup and found that it was mostly empty, save for a man sitting a few booths away from him. The man had his back to Edgeworth, so all he could see was the wild black hair jutting out in every which way. His hair looked rather shiny and, although his hair did indeed seem rather unruly, it appeared to be quite deliberate and didn't move very naturally when he moved his head. Edgeworth first noticed the man perhaps two weeks ago and, from what Balfour was able to convey to him, found that this was the infamous Leon she'd told him about. From what he understood, Leon came around every few days or so even when Edgeworth wasn't around, always sitting in a different place and always so that casual passersby would not be able to get a proper glimpse of his face.

As the daylight began reddening into the dusk, Balfour took a seat across from him, her apron gone and her glasses back on her face. "Good evening," Edgeworth said, though he raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise. "I was under the impression that you don't waitress here on weekdays."

"The girl that usually works during the week called in sick today, so I had to come help after work," she replied wearily, giving a rather dejected shrug. "Oh well. So how's work been treating you?"

"I suppose it's been all right," Edgeworth said, though he felt a twinge of pain in his head when he thought about the mess Gumshoe had made in his office after he'd clumsily caused three sets of case files to fall off the shelves and scatter across the floor. When Balfour gave a soft laugh, he frowned. "What?"

"Did you know that your eye twitches?" she said, smiling. "Bad day?"

"Ah, well—yes, I suppose you could say that," Edgeworth said, sighing in resignation.

_THUD._

"Whoa!" Balfour exclaimed, and Edgeworth jumped in his seat.

Maya and Pearl Fey had run up to the Sago Tea window and pressed their faces against the glass, and following behind him—though Edgeworth hoped he wouldn't imitate the girls as he didn't want to see the man's face squashed against the glass's surface—was Phoenix Wright, looking exhausted and holding a bag of food from the burger joint across the street. After Balfour waved to them and gestured to the café door, they gleefully came inside and scooted into the booth with them, Pearl Fey wriggling in to press right up against Edgeworth's arm. It rather made him feel like he had a younger sibling, or perhaps a niece.

"Hello, Mr. Edgeworth! Ms. Balskye!" Maya chimed happily as she sidled into the booth, and Balfour gave Maya a rather shocked look.

"Er, sorry, my name is Skye. Skye Balfour," Balfour said, giving a nervous chuckle. She was rather surprised when the expression on Maya's face was more that of disappointment than shock over the fact she'd gotten a name so mixed up.

"Oh! That explains the name!" said Maya. "I did kind of like Balskye though…"

"So, you're Maya, I assume?" Balfour said before an awkward silence could overwhelm them. "Miles talks about you guys a lot." Edgeworth shot her a disbelieving glare at that outright lie, which she returned with a grin and roguish twinkle in her eye. He made it a point to avoid talking about Wright and Friends, and for the most part he succeeded; on one of the days not too long after she'd met Wright and his _assistants_, Balfour had asked Edgeworth a little bit about them, but she seemed to have noted his reluctance and hadn't asked since then.

"Yup! I'm Maya Fey, and this is my little cousin, Pearl!" Maya said, nodding so that her topknot-like ponytail bobbed up and down.

"You seem to be rather excited for something, Maya," Edgeworth said before Maya could comment on Balfour's statement. He gave a sidelong glance at Wright once he arrived at the table and found that Wright looked rather disgruntled and perhaps even a bit exasperated, which made Edgeworth rather wary of what it was exactly that had Maya so excited.

"Mr. Edgeworth! Do you want to go to the count-tee fair with us tonight?" Pearl said, grinning up at him and patting his arm in excitement. "Mystic Maya says it'll be fun!"

Because previous experiences still haven't taught Edgeworth to never look into a Fey's eyes—_especially_ Pearl Fey's eyes—he found himself already engaged in a futile struggle with his will regardless that he'd carefully taken care to look at Pearl for only a moment. County fairs and the like did not suit a man like Edgeworth, and yet the little girl was so incredibly excited that he didn't have the heart, or at least he didn't think he had the heart—oftentimes people wondered if he even _had_ a heart—to disappoint such an innocent girl.

"Come on, Mr. Edgeworth! It's a Friday! Even Nick is coming, you know!" Maya chimed in, grinning.

"Sounds like _fun_, Miles," Skye said, visibly struggling to stifle her laughs. "You should go with them."

"What are you talking about? You're coming, too!" said Maya, giving Skye a quick prod. Balfour looked rather surprised, her eyes darting from Wright to Edgeworth, as though suspecting them of being in on some joke Maya was playing on her.

"Wait, what? I am?" Balfour sputtered, the look of shock on her face giving Edgeworth that same sort of bubbly, content feeling that he got when surprising defendants with decisive evidence—until, of course, that he realized that it was rather bad form to be reveling in others' misery. But, he supposed, if he was going to get dragged to some carnival or whatever manner of outlandish entertainment, he'd rather not have to spend the entire evening with Wright, which would be awkward and rather absurd, to say the least.

"Sounds like _fun_, Ms. Balfour. You should go with them," Edgeworth said, giving the thinnest of smiles. At that, the shock on Balfour's face was replaced by a self-satisfied grin.

"Looks like Miles _does _have a sense of humor," she said, and before Edgeworth could even begin to formulate a proper witty response, looked to Maya and nodded. "I wasn't going do anything important tonight anyway, I don't think," Balfour said cheerily. "I wouldn't mind going to the fair with you guys."

Pearl squealed with delight and looked up at Wright, her eyes brimming with joy. "Did you hear that, Mr. Nick? When can we go?" she asked, patting his arm excitedly.

"Er…right now, if you want, Pearls," said Wright. Edgeworth couldn't help but notice that Wright seemed to be getting rather nervous. He recognized that look from the courtroom; it was the same nervous look that betrayed the fact that Wright had been backed into a corner and was furiously grasping for something to help him. Edgeworth took a moment to enjoy Wright's unease, but that enjoyment was cut short when Maya's voice quickly cut through the small silence that had followed Wright's words.

"Wait a minute, Nick—we didn't ask Franziska yet!"

The happy feeling that had just been beating out the resentment about the tea suddenly disappeared. Franziska? Was Maya Fey mad? The county fair was the last place that Franziska would ever want to be, _especially_ with Phoenix Wright and Company. Edgeworth stared at Maya in disbelief, unable to fathom the processes in her head that led her to decide that she wanted _him _to accompany them to the fair, let alone Franziska von Karma.

"Mr. Edgeworth, can you ask Franziska for us? You have her phone number, right?" Maya said, beaming at Edgeworth.

"I—well, I suppose I could call her," Edgeworth said hesitantly, looking away in a futile attempt to get his reluctance across to the happy-go-lucky girl.

"Yes, please!" Maya said, and although Edgeworth didn't think it could, her smile grew even wider.

"Before I…call her, can you tell me why you want her to come?" said Edgeworth tentatively as he reluctantly pulled out his red Motoroto SHAVR cell phone.

"She always seems so stressed out and whipping people like Nick, so I thought it'd be fun for her!"

Edgeworth looked at her, momentarily nonplussed at how thoughtful—or outright oblivious—Maya Fey was being, before he managed to locate his voice. "I—see," he said, barely managing to keep the surprise out of his voice. "Just a moment."

After quickly giving Wright's pained face a brief glance, Edgeworth rather begrudgingly dialed Franziska's number and put the phone to his ear. Anxiety began to well up inside of him—he wasn't looking forward to the screeching that was almost certainly going to explode from the phone.

"_Miles Edgeworth."_

There was a biting sort of tone to Franziska's voice, which didn't quite bode well for Edgeworth. Franziska must not have had a good day for her to not even greet him properly on the phone. Quickly gathering himself, he cleared his throat and began with as casual a greeting as he could manage.

"Good evening, Franziska."

"_What do you want, Miles Edgeworth?"_

"Ah, I was just speaking with Maya and—she'd like you to come to the county fair with us tonight."

"_Miles Edgeworth."_

"Yes?"

"_Why would I want to go to a foolish fair with foolishly foolish fools like Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey?"_

"Ah, I see," said Edgeworth, hoping not to sound too hasty to get off the phone. "I suppose I will see you at the Prosecutors' Office then. Goodby—"

"Wait, wait!" Maya interrupted suddenly, leaning over the table towards Edgeworth. "Tell her Detective Gumshoe and Maggey and Ms. Balfour are coming, too!"

"Ah—in that case—Franziska, it seems Detective—"

"_I will meet you at the fair, Miles Edgeworth._"

_Click_.

Edgeworth sat there a moment and stared at his cell phone, wondering if what had just happened really did happen, or if perhaps his mind had lapsed into some sort of surreal alternate reality from which he might soon wake. She'd seemed _quite_ adamant until Maya had practically yelled into the phone that Gumshoe, his friend, and Balfour were coming along. So what was the clincher? The fact that she'd get the chance to give Gumshoe another dose of von-Karma-flavored misery, or the fact that she'd get the chance to watch Edgeworth be awkward around Balfour? Or was it because of Maggey?

"Well?" Maya asked eagerly.

"Franziska said that she's going to meet us there," Edgeworth said as he put away his phone. He glanced at Wright and thought he looked as though the judge had given him a ridiculously large penalty.

"Guess we should get going, then," Wright said, managing to replace the doleful look on his face with a relatively happy smile.

"All right then, Nick! Let's go!" said Maya practically tumbling out of the booth and pushing Wright towards the door. Pearl slipped out the booth and quickly looked back at Edgeworth, and, if he wasn't mistaken, there was the faintest hint of some sort of sadness hiding behind her grin.

"Come on, Mr. Edgeworth!" she said as she followed Wright and Maya out of the café.

Edgeworth sidled out of the booth and, as Balfour bid the manager farewell, left the café as well. However, before he slipped out the door, he stole a glance at Leon—or rather, where Leon had been sitting earlier. His seat was now unoccupied, and Edgeworth wondered how long he'd been gone. It rather worried Edgeworth that perhaps he was getting suspicious of Balfour's new friends, but he had simply been sitting there listening in and, as they hadn't been vocally discussing anything of a sensitive subject matter in or around the café, Edgeworth cautiously assumed that a simple evening at the county fair would be all right.

"Hey, Edgeworth, we'll meet you at the fairgrounds," Wright said as they emerged.

"All right. I would drive you all over, but unfortunately, my car won't fit you all," said Edgeworth as apologetically as he could manage—but, as past experiences had shown, his facility to communicate via facial and tonal expressions was rather undeveloped. However, Maya didn't seem bothered in the least and jabbed a thumb towards Wright.

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Edgeworth. Nick here needs some exercise anyways," Maya said, grinning. "You should hear him huffing and puffing going up stairs!"

As Wright and the two girls left for the bus stop, Edgeworth took a moment to try imagining Wright stumbling wearily up a flight of stairs and found that he was slightly tempted to laugh aloud. Restraining himself, he turned to Balfour and said, "Well, shall we go?"

"Ah, well, I was thinking I'd run home and get changed," Balfour replied, giving him an apologetic look, and by the running motion she made, Edgeworth wondered if she meant it in the most literal sense of the word. "I assume you might want to as well, so how about I just meet you there?"

"I was just going to go as I am," he replied, and the snort of laughter came right on cue.

"A-are you sure?" she asked after taking a moment to regain her composure. "I'm not sure if your cravat is suited to the county fair."

"My cravat and I will be just fine," Edgeworth said scathingly, but immediately regretted it when Balfour flinched at his words.

"I—I see," said Balfour. "In any case, I'll meet you there."

Edgeworth silently watched as she turned to leave, wondering if perhaps his demeanor had frightened her, which made him feel rather embarrassed at the prospect. Although he regularly acted like such in court, it was really rather poor form to speak to women—or anyone, really—in such a manner. As was, he finally decided, letting her walk home and waiting for her at the fairgrounds. "Skye," Edgeworth called, quickly striding after her. She turned, looking slightly perplexed, as he caught up with her. "I'll take you. It's just down the street."

"It's fine, don't worry about it," she said with a smile.

"We're both going to the fairgrounds, so it would save you some trouble if you let me take you," said Edgeworth.

For a matter as simple as changing clothes, Balfour seemed to be giving it quite a bit of thought—Edgeworth noticed her eyes flitting back and forth without really seeming to look at anything in particular. After a period of silence that seemed disproportional to the matter at hand, Balfour opened her mouth to speak. "I suppose so, then," she said rather reluctantly. "But don't feel obligated to come upstairs with me. I'll be quick about it." When she said the words "_don't feel obligated_," she briefly raised an eyebrow at him and smiled.

"That's fine," Edgeworth said as he gestured towards his red sports car. He was rather worried about what she didn't want him seeing up at her apartment. Would she perhaps be dressing wounds on her back again? Or perhaps having a chat with Leon? As they got into his car, he watched her sit down out of the corner of his eye. She didn't seem to be stiff today, so he could probably rule out any fresh wounds. So what was it?

Then again, maybe he was simply reading too much into it. But, as Edgeworth had found, nearly everything Skye Balfour did around him was to meet some sort of end. So…What was it?

They were relatively silent as Edgeworth drove, though when they were stopped at a red light, Balfour turned to him with a rather pensive look on her face. "Hey, Mr. Edgeworth," she started, and when he glanced at her, said, "about Maya. Is she…always like that?"

"From my experience, yes," he said. "Sometimes I wonder how she does it. She's gone through a lot, but she still seems like the same Maya as the one I met a few years ago."

Balfour didn't press it any further, and once Edgeworth parked his car at her apartment building, she lightly told him that she wouldn't be long and trotted off into the lobby of the building. After ten or so minutes had passed, Edgeworth began to feel slightly anxious that she hadn't yet returned, and by the time twenty had passed, he had already run through several horrific scenarios in his head, most of which involved him finding her dead in her apartment with fresh Sigaw marks on her chest.

By the time he'd finished with said scenarios, he was ready to get out of his car and make sure she was not lying dead in her apartment when she emerged from the building, clutching her bag to her chest and looking rather shaken. "Ms. Balfour, are you all right?" asked Edgeworth once she silently got back into the car, her eyes wide and her hands clenched on her bag so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"It's nothing," she said, turning away to look out the window. "Let's go, Mr. Edgeworth." He wasn't convinced in the least that it was, in fact, "nothing"—if anything, it was clear from her face that something had happened while she was at her apartment.

"Your lie is not very convincing, Ms. Balfour."

"I'm not lying. I'm fine," she said flatly, still avoiding his gaze by staring out the window. "Look, we should get out of here and go to the fair."

"What happened at your apartment?" asked Edgeworth, frowning.

"It's nothing for you to worry about," she said. "Someone—my cat—my cat spooked me, is all." Edgeworth gave her a sidelong glance as she obstinately fixed her gaze out the window, before starting the car and pulling out of the complex. As he silently drove, he wondered what might have happened for her to change demeanors so quickly. A cat wouldn't cause such marked changes in a person like Balfour, and none of her clothing thus far had shown any evidence at all of cat hair. Unless, of course, this was a cat of a very different nature…

"I don't suppose your cat's name is Leon, is it, Ms. Balfour?"

When Balfour's jaw stiffened up, Edgeworth knew he had hit the mark right on the head. "Was he at your place? What happened?" he asked, his frown becoming more pronounced. When she remained silent, he felt himself beginning to get slightly irritated. "Ms. Balfour, please tell me what happened…!"

"He hit me, okay?" she said suddenly. "In the face. He—he was angry that I was going out tonight." Balfour paused for a moment, as though contemplating what she said, before turning to face him. Edgeworth was slightly alarmed by her reddened eyes—was she crying earlier? "Please don't take this the wrong way, Mr. Edgeworth," she continued, giving him an imploring look that only exacerbated how wretched she seemed to be. "It's not your fault. He didn't tell me earlier that he wanted to…_talk_ tonight."

"Talk?"

"I'm sure you can use your imagination and extrapolate from there."

Edgeworth's frown became more pronounced, if that was even possible. "You mean he—"

"Yes."

"Ms. Balfour, truly, I didn't—"

"It's okay. Please don't think anything more about it, or you'll be worrying for nothing. It can't…It can't be helped."

They didn't speak another word to each other until they had found a parking spot at the fairgrounds. And once they got out of the car, Balfour took a few deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling carefully, before flashing a smile at Edgeworth and squaring her shoulders. "Let's go, Miles!" she said brightly, shouldering her bag. He marveled at her ability to mask her distress; most people, even attorneys like himself, had difficulty doing just that. And as they walked to the kiosk to buy their tickets, she chattered away as though nothing had happened in the car at all. He decided to follow her lead and act as though nothing was wrong—perhaps it was her way of informing him that they may be tailed as they had been during their spurious "date."

"Mr. Edgeworth! Ms. Balfour! Over here!"

Edgeworth barely had time to look in the direction that the voice was coming in before feeling a pair of little hands grab his own and begin to lead him away. He glanced down and found Pearl pulling him toward a motley assortment of people that looked completely out of place at a fair—though Gumshoe and that young woman Edgeworth recognized from around the precinct looked normal enough, Wright was still wearing his blue suit and the Fey cousins were wearing their customary Kurain garments, and Franziska, still wearing her work clothes with her whip coiled menacingly around her hand, was the icing on top of the awkward cake. Edgeworth didn't think he made matters any better, what with the cravat and all, though he hardly cared what other people thought about him.

"Miles Edgeworth, you are late!" Franziska said brusquely, jabbing an accusatory finger at him.

"Yeah, sure took you long enough, pal!" Gumshoe laughed, and Edgeworth wasn't quite sure what to feel at his subordinate's scolding on top of Franziska's.

"We got here first on the bus, and you have that fancy car!" Maya said, waggling her finger at him. Edgeworth scowled and glanced at Wright to see if he, too, had something to berate him about, but it seemed that Wright was just as exasperated as he.

"Oh, don't get mad at him," Balfour said cheerily, patting him on the shoulder. "It's my fault we were late. I had to go home real quick. Right?"

Edgeworth paused a moment and looked around at all their expectant faces, before folding his arms across his chest and nodding. "Er…that would be correct," he said, sighing.

"_In any case_," Wright interrupted as von Karma opened her mouth to rebuke him again, "we should go on in. It's getting late."

If anyone had believed that Miles Edgeworth had never been to the county fair, then they would have been right. Indeed, this was the first time that he'd ever step foot in such a place; Manfred von Karma had always been adamant that gatherings such as this were for foolish and unrefined people, or some such nonsense, so neither Edgeworth nor Franziska had ever been afforded the opportunity to go to one. It was loud and children were everywhere, but all the attendees seemed to be having quite a lot of fun. The fragrances of a multitude of different barbequed and fried foods filled the air, and though Edgeworth cringed to think of the potential health hazards associated with ingesting said foods, wondered if they were as delicious as they smelled.

He glanced ahead and found that Maya had grabbed Wright's arm and was excitedly pointing at a tall tower with a car plummeting down toward the ground. "Come on, Nick! We gotta ride the 'Steel Samurai Screamer!'" she said eagerly, though Wright looked less than enthusiastic. Edgeworth could barely even look at the people freefalling from the top of the tower, screaming in apparent excitement but sounding to Edgeworth like they were howling in terror—unpleasant memories of his time trapped in an elevator began to bubble up from his memory as his stomach and intestines tied themselves into a lovely knot.

"Are you all right? You haven't even gotten on and you already look like you're going to throw up," he heard Balfour quietly say to him. He turned away, feeling incredibly embarrassed about his discomfort.

"I'm—I'm fine," murmured Edgeworth. "I—"

"Mr. Edgeworth, are you coming, too?"

Edgeworth found Pearl leaning around his leg to peer up at him. His anxiety over the tower ride was such that even the infamous Fey eyes had no effect on them. "Unfortunately," he managed to say, "I don't quite think I'll be coming along."

"Aww, are you afraid of heights, pal?" asked Gumshoe, chortling to himself. Finally finding a suitable outlet for all his unease, Edgeworth drew himself up and pointed an accusatory finger at the unfortunate detective.

"It's nothing of the sort, detective!" he snapped. The wince that Gumshoe gave made Edgeworth feel slightly better as verbally reprimanding his subordinate was much more familiar territory than riding a car up a tower and then plummeting down toward the ground. Clearly, some people thought this to be entertainment, but Edgeworth wasn't quite convinced that it wasn't some sort of subconscious masochism.

"Hey, Detective Gumshoe," Wright said, sidling between them and smiling, "why don't you and Maggey take Maya and Pearl on the ride, and I'll wait here with Edgeworth?" If Edgeworth wasn't mistaken, Wright looked as though a shade of green was creeping up his face.

Maya attempted to cajole Wright into coming along, but Franziska managed to scare her off with the whip. To Edgeworth's surprise, though she briefly ranted about the complete foolishness of those foolish fools for wanting to foolishly ride that ride, Franziska ended up tagging along with them and managed to drag Balfour along as well by somehow twisting her whip in such a way that Balfour couldn't unravel it from her wrist. "But only a fool would be afraid to ride such a thing," Franziska had said over her shoulder, smirking as she turned away to follow the others and leaving Edgeworth standing there in irritation.

"Thank you…Wright," said Edgeworth begrudgingly once everyone was finally out of sight, feeling his pride stinging a little at Franziska's words. Wright laughed and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"It didn't seem like your kind of ride, considering…everything. And to be honest, I'm not a fan of heights, either," he said.

They stood there in silence for a few moments. Edgeworth was quite content to stand and simply watch the people go by, but it seemed that Wright was growing increasingly tense as time went on. It wasn't as though Edgeworth harbored any sort of grudge against him—he simply hadn't anything to talk about, since small talk wasn't quite his forte. "So how have you been, Edgeworth?" Wright finally blurted when it seemed he could no longer take the silence between them.

"I've been well enough. And you, Wright?" said Edgeworth simply, turning his eyes on him.

"Oh, me too…" Wright trailed off. It was obvious that he expected a little more than a simple "I've been well enough," but Edgeworth wasn't exactly the best conversational partner to have. "Oh, Edgeworth," Wright started, his expression brightening, "so how are things going with Ms. Balfour? She seems nice."

"Er, it's been going…well," Edgeworth replied. He didn't really know how to answer that question, as he wasn't exactly dating the poor woman, though he supposed that he should really try to sound a bit more convincing about it all. "She's…a good person," he added rather lamely. Or at least, she _seemed_ to be. At this point, he conceded that it could all be some elaborate plot that he was getting drawn into, but he still didn't have enough information about the situation to make a definitive conclusion.

"Well, I'm glad for you," said Wright cheerily.

"Th-thank you." Edgeworth was relieved when Wright's curiosity seemed to be satisfied. Wright seemed to be a little more confident now and began talking about his various adventures defending suspects accused of an assortment of crimes, so Edgeworth was comfortable simply listening to him as they waited for the others to return from the ride.

"Hey, Nick! Nick, look!"

Edgeworth gave a start when Maya threw herself into Wright, forcing a teddy bear into his face. "Wh-what is it, Maya?" Wright sputtered, backing away and steadying her as she stumbled forward after him. She thrust a small teddy bear into his face again, grinning and almost hopping in place from excitement.

"Look, Nick! It's a teddy bear of you! I won it!" she said in delight.

"You—you won a _what?_"

Upon closer inspection, it seemed it was a very normal bear wearing a decidedly peculiar blue suit and sporting a pointy felt hairdo._ It—it couldn't be_, Edgeworth thought in alarm. Was it really a bear of…_Wright?_ "I won it myself! It's a bear of you, Nick! Isn't it great? Pearly got one too!" Maya said. The grin on her face was in stark contrast to the horrified look on Wright's, and Edgeworth was just starting to pity him a bit when he saw Gumshoe come into view, holding his own bear aloft.

It was a bear wearing a cravat and a maroon suit.

"_What is the meaning of this, Detective?_" Edgeworth demanded as he felt his face grow warmer in humiliation at the sight of the little bear in Gumshoe's hands.

"It's not a big deal, pal—sir. We won them playing a dart game over that way," said Gumshoe, looking slightly hurt and gesturing over toward a row of carnival games. "Aren't they great? Makes me want to get some for the whole precinct!"

"_That will not be necessary, Detective!_" Edgeworth said, his teeth clenched and a vein throbbing in his head at the thought of the whole police department cavorting around with teddy bears dressed in cravats.

"Who—who _did _this?" Wright sputtered, taking Maya's bear and examining it, horror etched all over his face.

_CRACK_.

Wright yowled in pain and nearly dropped the bear when a whip streaked across his arm. "_Phoenix Wright!_" Franziska shrieked, a headless bear with stuffing hanging out of it clenched tight in her fist as she furiously let fly with her whip, the leather becoming a blur as Wright screamed and attempted to back away, only to be forced up against the wall with no escape. "_What is the meaning of this, Phoenix Wright? Your foolishly foolish fool of a friend is offering these foolish bears as prizes! Do you understand the depths of my humiliation, Phoenix Wright? Franziska von Karma reduced to a _bear_?_"

Everything became crystal clear as soon as "foolishly foolish fool of a friend" registered in Edgeworth's mind. There was no other explanation than for that man—that hapless and, dare he say _talentless_ man—to have spawned such a distasteful scheme as creating bears based on attorneys. It seemed that Wright, upon recovering from Franziska's maddened onslaught, had arrived at the same conclusion, for he gave Edgeworth a meaningful look and began striding heatedly in the direction that everyone had come from, with Edgeworth following closely on his heels, hardly even noticing Balfour approaching with Pearl in tow as he passed.

And what they found truly lived up to the phrase, "when something smells, it's usually the Butz."

What must have been over a hundred bears were lining a balloon dart booth, with a grinning Larry Butz calling out to the passersby, encouraging them to play. It seemed there were three kinds of bears, as indicated by an embarrassingly amateur poster fixed to the side of the booth: the Justice Bear (dressed in a blue suit), the Truth Bear (in a cravat and maroon suit), and…the Franzy Bear (sporting a whip woven from yarn and making Edgeworth cringe from the sheer unimaginativeness of the name). By all accounts, they were rather well made as far as fair prizes went, but the horror of seeing his profession embodied by teddy bears at the county fair was a severe blow to his pride. He envisioned a prosecutor bear to be a little more high-end and collectible than the cheap ones on display here.

"Larry! What…what are you doing?" Wright said in shock at the sight of the bears.

"Nick! Come play for an attorney bear! Only three dollars a dart!" said Larry happily, unsurprisingly remaining completely oblivious to the dismayed looks on Wright's and Edgeworth's faces.

"Laaaaarryyyyyy…What are you doing here?" said Edgeworth, scowling and folding his arms over his chest. Larry looked predictably indignant.

"Aw, come on, Nick, Edgey! Why you gotta come in all glaring like that? Can't even say 'hi' to your friend?" he whined, pouting. "These attorney bears were my Naomi's idea, you know, and they've been really popular! They even—_YEOWCH!_"

"Fool! How dare you sully the name of von Karma with these foolish abominations!" Franziska snarled, mercilessly beating at Larry with her whip. "Scruffy, arrest this man!" However, it seemed that Franziska's rage was causing her to let fly with all sorts of threats (including strangulation by whip, which Larry actually seemed excited about…which made Edgeworth shudder to think of the man's habits), so she didn't seem to notice that her Scruffy wasn't exactly jumping to follow her orders.

"I have half a mind to sue you for improper use of our images, Larry," said Edgeworth calmly when Franziska paused to prepare for another assault.

"Come on, Edgey! You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" Larry whimpered, though Edgeworth put all the power he possibly could into his glare and hoped that it would be able to penetrate Larry's inconceivably thick skull that yes, he did have _half_ a mind to sue him. Perhaps a charge of defamation would put Larry in line; with Edgeworth's legal prowess, finding a suitable loophole to exploit would be a cakewalk. But, he begrudgingly supposed, he really wasn't so cruel as to torment a man that really didn't know any better.

"You know, I think the bears are kinda cute. I'm taking one home," said Balfour, smiling and sidling beside him as Franziska renewed her effort to tear Larry into pieces—Edgeworth made a note to stop Franziska before she killed him so that she wouldn't be charged with murder. Balfour was holding a Truth Bear in her arms and seemed rather amused about something, either because she thought the bear to be comical, or because there was some schadenfreude going on in that mind of hers.

"I beg to differ," Edgeworth retorted, frowning.

"Mr. Edgeworth, you don't like them?"

He peered down and found Pearl looking up at him, a heartbreaking expression on her face as she clutched her Justice and Truth Bears. "N-no, of course I like them," he said quickly, doing his best to give Pearl his least sinister smile. She seemed satisfied and, to his relief, she broke out into a grin.

"Only, I wish there was a bear of Mystic Maya," Pearl said, looking away as her smile fell a bit. "That way, this bear of Mr. Nick could have a special someone."

"Well, what if you pretended the bear of Ms. von Karma was Maya?" Balfour suggested helpfully.

"NO! I couldn't do that! Only Mystic Maya is Mr. Nick's special someone!" Pearl said indignantly, startling Balfour so much that she took a step back in shock.

"Speaking of special someones," Edgeworth murmured, glancing over at Gumshoe and Maggey, who seemed to have dropped off into their own world in the midst of the hullabaloo. The detective was giving Maggey the sappiest face he'd ever seen, and she seemed conflicted about telling him something or other. It really looked like something out of a budget romance movie.

"Detective Gumshoe, thank you for taking me here with all your friends," said Maggey, smiling up at Gumshoe.

"It was nothing, pal. But we got here so late that we didn't really get to do much…"

"Detective…"

By now, Pearl, Maya, Balfour, and Edgeworth were all staring intently at the scene unfolding before them.

"Y-yeah, pal?"

"I really, really want to thank you for taking care of me. You're like the big brother I never had!"

Oh, _damn_. That hurts.

Their audience hurriedly turned away, but Edgeworth was sure he could hear Gumshoe's world come crashing down on his head. For a brief moment before he turned, Edgeworth saw the most devastated look he'd ever seen on the detective—even more devastating than his pay-cut face. He gave Balfour a sidelong glance, which she returned with a look that clearly said, "Holy moly the poor guy's got some rotten luck."

And Edgeworth was rather inclined to agree.

"Ah…I…er…" the poor detective sputtered. "Glad to—glad to be there for you, pal."

* * *

_Well, readers, here I am again (two whole years later). : D I just finished Ace Attorney Investigations, which prompted the desire to finish this stupid chapter. Hopefully, the next update won't come two years from now. XD; Anyone who comes back to read after first reading two years ago has my deepest gratitude. I love y'all._

_Now that I played AAI, I kinda wish I was able to put Kay in here, but the continuity of this fic would need to be shifted big time to allow for that. Sooooo. I'll do something else with Kay someday. I also need to get working on that animation I wanted to do of Edgeworth and the Gary Jules version of the song "Mad World" (look it up. It sounds sadder than the original, and I feel like it fits Edgey really well). And an animation set to Linkin Park's "The Catalyst" song. Hahaha. That one will have Kay in it. I know the song's repetitive, but I have a vision! Hopefully I can freaking draw it how I see in my brain. D:  
_


	4. Fathers

_**Wonderment**_

_Chapter Four: Fathers_

_

* * *

_For once, things seemed to be going quite well for an investigation.

Miles Edgeworth knew that it would not last, but for now, he was satisfied that the surreptitious investigation he was heading on the seaport was finally making some progress. They had uncovered some erroneous documents regarding a shipment from the Philippines that had made a stop to unload in Hawaii. It seemed that one container meant to have been unloaded actually made it to the US mainland, and though the documents indicated that it was merely a container full of dried mango snacks, Edgeworth was inclined to believe otherwise. He wasn't confident, though, that they could find out more about the container and why it didn't stay in Hawaii without launching a more visible investigation.

He stowed the investigation report away in his briefcase and, after briefly turning to look out the window at the evening sky, got up and silently left his office. He was glad that the week was over and that the case he'd been working on for the past two had finally come to a close. The final ruling had resulted in an acquittal for the defendant, though considering that the defense had been Wright, Edgeworth was sure that the defendant was truly innocent. It was a while since they had faced each other in court, and Edgeworth found that he had actually missed doing so—all the loose ends of the case seemed to come together so completely when the defense was actually able to counter his arguments.

As he drove home, he briefly entertained the idea of stopping by Sago Tea to see if Balfour was there and had anything to say to him, but it was rather late already, so he resigned himself to wait until tomorrow. That is, of course, until he caught sight of Balfour walking down the street with what appeared to be a cup of gelato. As he idled at a red light, he watched as she seemed to trudge down the street, dragging her feet with her head bowed. Before a large truck forced itself into the intersection, blocking traffic as well as Edgeworth's view, he thought he saw her slip through the gates of the nearby park.

Concerned by her rather dejected behavior, he parked his car along the side of the street and entered the park to find her. The park seemed relatively empty, so it wasn't difficult to spot Balfour sitting at the edge of the pond, hunched over with her arms wrapped around her knees as she ate her gelato.

"Ms. Balfour," said Edgeworth quietly, drawing up next to her.

"Oh, Mr. Edgeworth. What are you doing here?" she said, smiling wearily up at him as she got to her feet. Edgeworth was shocked to find a purple bruise underneath her left eye. From its size and color, it looked to be a recent development.

"What happened to your face?" he said, frowning.

"Nothing. I tripped and hit a doorknob with my face," Balfour said nonchalantly, as though a pathetic excuse like that was going to work on him.

"I'm sure you know by now that I can see through your lies."

"Yeah, I know, Mr. Prosecutor," she said, chuckling as he scowled. She held the cup of gelato to him. "Want some gelato? It's stracciatella."

"No, thank you. You also did not answer my question." Balfour shrugged and put a spoonful of gelato into her mouth, obstinately silent. "Ms. Balfour!" he snapped when she simply continued to eat.

"How about we leave it at getting hit by a doorknob? A fist-shaped one, if you prefer." Edgeworth stared at her in alarm as she busied herself with the gelato. He assumed that she couldn't go to the police about the abuse, but it seemed so…_wrong_ to see her brush it off like that.

"Is Leon…mentally unbalanced in some way?" said Edgeworth slowly.

"I guess you could say that," she replied coolly, carefully avoiding his gaze. "I like to think that it's the drugs talking. He does something or other. Meth, maybe? Or maybe he's just a really angry person. I don't know."

Edgeworth wasn't even sure what to say anymore. All these things were coming from her mouth so matter-of-factly that it all felt a little bit too surreal for his tastes. "Ms. Balfour…" was all he managed to say, to which she simply shrugged.

"Hey, Mr. Edgeworth," she said suddenly, "would you like come with me to visit my dad tomorrow?"

Considering that Balfour's father had been privy enough to Sigaw to be perceived as a distinct threat to their organization—so much so that he'd been beaten so badly that it damaged his brain—it sounded like a good opportunity to see what information they could get from him. He was concerned, however, that Leon could potentially beat Balfour again if they spent any more time together. "That sounds like an excellent idea, but about Leon…" he started, frowning.

"Leon won't be a problem for at least a week or so. Apparently he and his sister are leaving for the Philippines tonight," said Balfour. "So…I can pick you up somewhere in my car, or you can pick me up. What'll it be? My car will be less conspicuous and you're always driving me around anyway." Edgeworth wasn't even aware that Balfour had a license, let alone a car, since she seemed to walk and take the bus everywhere, and he'd only really driven Balfour around a grand total of two times.

"Very well, let's take your car. Do you remember where I live?"

"Of course I do. I'll be there tomorrow morning at ten. Is that okay?"

"That's fine."

"Well, I'd better get home, Mr. Edgeworth," Balfour said, smiling and turning to leave. "This park's a shortcut to my place, so I guess I'll just see you tomorrow."

Edgeworth watched as she made her way to the opposite end of the park, feeling rather perplexed by her hasty exit. He supposed that it could have been due to his unannounced arrival—she did seem to be brooding about something earlier and, he suspected, she wasn't comfortable continuing her brooding while he was around.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he gave one last look at her retreating form before heading for the opposite end of the park.

* * *

"Nice suit, Mr. Edgeworth," Balfour said, straightening her glasses as he got into the passenger seat of her unassuming, beige sedan, wearing a deep blue suit rather than his customary maroon one. He noticed that the purple on her face had shrunk somewhat, but it looked a little more grotesque in the daylight than it did in the evening light.

"Thank you," he said as he shut the door, though he could've sworn that he heard Balfour give a faint snort. "I was under the impression that you didn't drive, Ms. Balfour."

"Oh, only drive when I have to," she said lightly. "Gas is expensive, so I don't mind walking and taking the bus."

"I see."

The silence was awkward, as neither seemed to really have anything to readily talk about, and they'd already been driving south on the freeway before Balfour spoke up. "It'll take about twenty more minutes to get to the institution," she said. "I called them earlier and they said my dad was in good shape today, so hopefully he'll be able to talk about stuff."

"That's…good news," Edgeworth replied, though he felt a little ambivalent about saying what essentially boiled down to "that's good news that your father is slightly less insane today than on other days."

"So, since we've got some time," said Balfour, briefly turning to give him a smile, "what sorts of things do you do for fun, Mr. Edgeworth?"

Edgeworth was momentarily rendered speechless at her question; so what sorts of things _did_ he do for fun? Most of his days consisted of a very set routine that he was rather comfortable in—namely, eating, investigating, prosecuting, and sleeping. Now that he thought of it, he didn't really do much of anything in terms of leisure, except for the odd Steel Samurai episode (okay, perhaps a marathon or two) when his workload permitted. "I—am a prosecutor," he said finally.

"Riiiiight," Balfour said, grinning. "So, does that mean you have fun prosecuting, or is that a roundabout way of saying that you don't have time for fun?"

"My line of work doesn't permit a lot of time for…fun," said Edgeworth. "I suppose I watch television every now and then, though. What about you, Ms. Balfour?"

"I have a bunch of little coding projects and play video games a little bit. You know, you should try that lawyer game that I have," she said, laughing. "I'll lend it to you if you like."

"Ah, I don't—play video games," Edgeworth said, frowning. He wasn't sure if he'd ever played a video game in his life, though he imagined that if he hadn't been separated from Wright and Butz in elementary school, they might have eventually dragged him to some arcade to play.

"Doesn't mean you can't start, but I guess you _would_ be too busy to play." She paused briefly, as though considering her words, before continuing. "You know, I wanted to be a lawyer once. Actually, a prosecutor. Hah, I even took the LSATs just to see how I'd do."

This news startled Edgeworth a bit—he hadn't imagined that Balfour was the kind of person to have anything to do with law, let alone someone who wanted to be a prosecutor. "Why didn't you go through with it?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know…I wanted to prosecute criminals that do things like those guys did to my dad, but…" she trailed off for a moment, looking rather lost in thought, before snapping out of it and laughing. "I don't know, I guess I liked software engineering much better! But Prosecutor Skye Balfour does have kind of a ring to it, doesn't it? It's more impressive and sinister than Software Engineer Skye Balfour, and maybe I'd have a detective sidekick like you do."

"It's hard to call Detective Gumshoe a sidekick. He's more like a puppy," said Edgeworth frowning as the image of himself wearing a cape with Gumshoe at his side quickly flashed through his mind. "What did you mean by 'sinister'?"

"Just what I meant. Didn't they call you a 'demon prosecutor' for a while? Sounds pretty sinister to me."

"Do I look sinister to you?" Edgeworth demanded, scowling.

"Do you want the answer to that question?" she asked, giving him a sidelong glance. He immediately thought better about the scowl that had unconsciously appeared on his face and sullenly averted his gaze out the window.

"I suppose I already know the answer."

They spent the remaining time in silence, though Balfour had a rather foolish grin on her face the entire time—Edgeworth supposed she was still amused by how sinister he apparently looked. However, it actually wasn't long until they arrived at the institution, a rather plain, two-floored building nestled comfortably between hills covered in yellowing grass. A tall fence surrounded the property, and Edgeworth could see some of the patients milling about behind it. "Come on, Mr. Edgeworth," said Balfour quietly, slinging a bag over her shoulder as she led him up the steps and through the front double doors.

Edgeworth's immediate impression of the institution was that it felt rather stifling and was not a place where he would like to spend his days. It wasn't as though it was crowded or anything—in fact, the hallway that he found himself in was wide and spacious, but so completely silent and devoid of any color that it was just as stifling as being trapped in a tiny room. The walls and ceiling were painted white, and were it not for the graying of dirt and age, the floor tiles would have been white as well. The place didn't even seem to have a smell—or indeed, it smelled of sterility, of nothingness. None of it seemed natural, and it didn't seem to be a place fit for people, especially mentally ill people, to live.

"Ah, Skye, good to see you again."

A woman wearing medical scrubs and running shoes looked up from her desk and smiled at them. "Good to see you again, Skye. Your dad's waiting in his usual place, but it's empty like you asked," said the woman, gesturing down the hallway. "He seemed excited to find out that you were—hey, what happened to your face?"

"Haha, I had a little accident. Anyway, let's go, Mr. Edgeworth," said Balfour, nodding to the woman as they passed. Edgeworth tried not to notice that Laura was either giving him an incredulous look—likely because of his suit or Balfour's rather poor explanation—but inwardly sighed when he looked closer and found her face turning slightly pink at his gaze.

At the end of the hallway was what appeared to be a small recreation room. A television hung from the ceiling along the wall across them, and a few worn and tattered couches were scattered about the room almost haphazardly, as though they'd recently been moved and nobody had been bothered to align them again. A table and its accompanying chairs were similarly haphazardly piled in the corner. A lone man, his entire frame slumping forward as though on his last legs, sat on a couch pressed against the wall, his gaze directed out the window at the people playing basketball outside. His gaunt face seemed to droop with a sort of sorrow, his graying hair shaved short and the skin on his lean face sagging—he looked almost like a melting wax sculpture.

"Wait here, Mr. Edgeworth," Balfour murmured, lightly touching his arm as she made her way toward him. He watched as she kept out of her father's line of sight as she approached, before quickly stepping into view with a silly grin on her face. "Hi, Daddy! It's me!"

A wide grin spread across Mr. Balfour's face and he straightened up, launching himself forward and wrapping his thin arms around his daughter. "Skye! I'm so glad to you came to see me!" he cried happily, pressing his cheek against hers as she laughed.

Edgeworth watched in wonderment as father and daughter talked—the change that had come over Mr. Balfour was shocking, to say the least. He seemed to no longer slump forward, and his smile was so wide that it seemed to push all his skin up on his face—it was as though he was a completely different person. He happily began chattering about all the things he'd been waiting to tell her, and as Edgeworth listened, he began to understand what Balfour had meant when she described his condition. Mr. Balfour sometimes said things that made little sense, and in the course of their short conversation, had already made several references to events that occurred over ten years ago.

"Daddy, I brought a friend with me today," Skye finally said once her father seemed to exhaust the things he wanted to talk about. She gestured for Edgeworth to come over and pat his arm once he arrived. "Daddy, this is my friend, Mr. Edgeworth."

Both Balfour and Edgeworth watched in shock as Mr. Balfour began panicking, his eyes growing wide as he clutched at Balfour's hand. "Edgeworth…? Edgeworth…! I—Skye, I—!" he sputtered, burying his head in her shoulder.

"Wh-what's wrong?" Balfour asked, bewildered. He looked up and gave her an imploring look, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

"Skye, Skye, I need—Skye, I need to talk to Gregory! Please, it's very important!"

"Dad, I don't understand. Who's Gregory?" Balfour asked in confusion, attempting to steady her increasingly hysterical father.

Edgeworth's eyes widened in alarm. Surely—surely he didn't mean—

"Skye, please, I need to talk to Gregory Edgeworth! It's important! I need to tell him something! Sigaw—Sigaw—!"

"Mr. Edgeworth," said Balfour worriedly, turning to him as the color began to drain from his face, "Mr. Edgeworth. Who's Gregory?"

"Gregory is—" Edgeworth paused to force the lump in his throat down as he felt his consciousness begin separating from his body. "Gregory is my father."

"_What?_" Balfour spluttered. Edgeworth was jerked to attention when Skye grabbed his sleeve and maneuvered him in front of Mr. Balfour. "Daddy, this is Miles Edgeworth. Please, tell him what you need to tell Gregory about Sigaw!"

Both Balfour and Edgeworth watched with bated breath as Mr. Balfour fell silent and turned to examine Edgeworth, his watery eyes flitting up and down his form. "You—you're not Gregory," said Mr. Balfour finally, frowning. He turned back to his daughter, taking her hand again. "Skye, this isn't Gregory. I have to talk to him! Only him. Please, Skye!"

"This is Gregory's son, Daddy. It's okay to tell him," she said, giving her father a bright smile. Mr. Balfour looked terrified and shook his head quickly.

"No, no, it has to be Gregory! I—it can't be anyone else!"

"O-okay, okay. W-wait here, Daddy. I'll…" she trailed off, obviously at a loss as to what she would do. Regardless, she gave Edgeworth a meaningful look before grabbing his wrist and all but dragging him from the room.

"Ms. Balfour, what is the meaning of this?" Edgeworth demanded once they were back in the hallway.

"I—I don't know. I had no idea he knew your father, Mr. Edgeworth," she said, her voice strained as she ran her fingers through her hair. "Can we speak to him?"

At that, Edgeworth felt a slight pang in his heart. "My father…my father is dead," he said quietly. Her eyes widened in horror and she put a hand to her mouth.

"Oh god…I'm so sorry…"

"What—what can be done about your father, Ms. Balfour?" Edgeworth asked. He turned away, unable to take the pitying look plastered all over Balfour's face.

"When he gets like this…Short of bringing your father to him, there's no other way to get him to talk about it…"

Clenching his fist in his pocket, Edgeworth frowned as a feeling of helplessness overtook him. Was there really no other way to cajole Mr. Balfour into talking?

"Mr. Edgeworth, do you look much like your father?" Balfour asked suddenly.

"I—I suppose I might," he said softly. She took hold of his arm and, as he turned to meet her gaze, found her giving him a piercing stare.

"Mr. Edgeworth. What did your father look like? How did he keep his hair?" she said slowly, her hand tightening on his arm as she spoke. Edgeworth thought for a moment, sifting through the memories of his childhood and attempting to keep from breaking down into a miserable heap. On the day that his father died…Edgeworth could see it in horrific clarity—

"He kept his hair slicked back," he said finally, letting out all the air he'd been holding in his chest. "And he wore glasses."

Balfour immediately reached into her bag and pulled a water bottle out, removing the cap and holding it out to him. "Here, use this water to fix your hair," she said. Edgeworth took the bottle and, after hesitating a moment, poured some water into his hand and began working it into the bangs that he normally let hang down, Balfour practically dancing on the spot as he did so. She grew uncharacteristically impatient as he clumsily attempted to force his hair to stay up, and finally she dug a small brush from her bag and wordlessly began to brush his hair back, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Once she was satisfied with his hair, handed her glasses to him. "Put these on. Put them low so you're not looking through them," she said. Once she'd done so, she examined him a moment before nodding in satisfaction. "You look like a different person already. Here, take a look." She took his arm and pulled him toward the rec room door's little window.

Edgeworth was shocked at the sight of his reflection. It was as though his father was staring back out at him from the pane of glass, albeit with dripping hair and a scowl. It was a face he saw every day when he got out of the shower, but now—just now—did he become aware of just how much he resembled his father. He felt his knees beginning to give way—it was all getting to be too much for him—but with a tremendous effort, he forced himself to stay upright as he turned back to Balfour. "It's—this will work," he managed to croak as his throat began to tighten.

Without another word, Balfour dragged him back into the room, where Mr. Balfour was anxiously sitting on the edge of the couch, gnawing at his fingers. "Daddy, here's—here he is," said Balfour, gently nudging Edgeworth toward him.

"Gregory! Gregory, I'm so relieved to see you!"

Edgeworth was nearly bowled over when Mr. Balfour jumped forward to pull him into a tight hug. "I—I need to tell you, Gregory," said Mr. Balfour urgently, letting go of Edgeworth and looking around the room as though expecting someone to be eavesdropping. "I can't go to the police…they'll kill Skye if I do…You're the only one who can do this, Gregory…"

"Wh-what is it?" said Edgeworth nervously as he caught sight of Balfour blanching out of the corner of his eye.

"Gregory, you—you have to let von Karma win the trial tomorrow," he sobbed, a tear spilling from his eye. Edgeworth backed away in shock, his knees threatening to give out.

"What—_what did you say?_" Edgeworth sputtered, his entire body beginning to tremble as his mind struggled to come to terms with the implications of what Mr. Balfour was currently sobbing about.

"Let him win, Gregory. Your client is the killer, he really is," sobbed Mr. Balfour, dropping to his knees. "Someone told me that von Karma messed with a piece of evidence, but please, Gregory, just ignore it and let him win! Your client killed so many innocent people…! And that one container…"

"I—I—" All ability to coherently speak left Edgeworth. He couldn't understand what was happening. Was this man—had this man actually been able to reach his father, would that terrible ordeal even happened? Manfred von Karma wouldn't have shot him if he hadn't been penalized over the tampered evidence…Would Miles Edgeworth still have a father now? Would his father have listened to Mr. Balfour?

"You know I—that I wouldn't lie about something like this, G-Gregory," said Mr. Balfour, burying his face in his daughter's shoulder again as she knelt down to draw him into a hug. "D-don't tell the police, Gregory…Please, they'll—they'll kill Skye…But I needed to tell you…I needed to tell someone…They're horrible…" He seemed to sob even harder, clutching Balfour so tight that she seemed to be struggling to breathe.

"Daddy…it's okay, I'm—I'm fine," she said comfortingly, wiping his tears with her sleeve once he loosened his grip.

"Skye, be careful—you have to be careful—!"

"What's going on in here?"

They found a nurse peering into the room, a bewildered look on his face as he surveyed the scene before him: a patient sobbing and clutching his daughter, who had a gruesome black eye decorating her face, and a man breathing heavily and ready to fall to his knees, clutching his chest as water dripped from his hair. The nurse shot Edgeworth an accusatory glare; by all means, it looked as though a fight had ensued, and it would have hardly strained the imagination to conclude that Edgeworth had punched Balfour in the face, which prompted her mentally-ill father to cry.

"What did you do to them? _Did you_ _hit her in the face, asshole?_" the nurse demanded, stomping into the room and glaring at Edgeworth, who was all but flabbergasted at the sudden name-calling.

"Oh, no, no, no! Relax, Nate," Balfour said quickly. "He didn't do anything—I hurt myself yesterday. We were just—we were just having a hard time with my dad." Nate breathed out and seemed to calm down, albeit reluctantly, though the suspicious look he was shooting at Edgeworth remained on his face.

"How about I take him back to his room to get some rest, Skye?" he asked, finally tearing his glare from Edgeworth and kneeling down to help her up.

"Y-yeah, that'd be good. I think he might be tired."

Though Mr. Balfour attempted to cling to her, Nate managed to pry him off and began to lead him away. "Come on, Evan. Let's get you to your room," he said gently.

"Bye, Daddy. I'll visit again soon," Balfour said softly, waving at him as Nate took him away. He waved balefully at Balfour over his shoulder before Nate led him out of the room.

Balfour and Edgeworth stood there in silence, unmoving and unwilling to look at each other, before Edgeworth suddenly strode out of the room and down the hallway. His body was shaking uncontrollably and he could barely see through the tears welling up in his eyes—for all he knew, they were already streaming down his numb face. His mind was in shambles as it tried to process what had just happened, what he'd just learned; he couldn't think straight and he wasn't sure if he wanted to if it meant trying to sort out the mess of thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to scream at the injustices the world was throwing at him, but he could hardly get a breath past his clenched throat, let alone find his voice.

He threw the doors of the institution open and stepped outside, his subconscious telling him to go find a nice dark place to lie down and perhaps die, but in the wide open parking lot, the best he could do was collapse onto the steps leading up to the front doors and hold his head in his hands, struggling not to sob aloud as tears dripped onto his cravat. He didn't even notice that Balfour had taken a seat next to him.

"M-Mr. Edgeworth?" she ventured. "Mr. Edgeworth, what's…what's wrong?"

Of course. She didn't know. She didn't know that had her father managed to make contact with his, their families might not have become the dysfunctional messes that they were. She didn't know the horrors of growing up under his father's killer, only to be framed for murder by that same man. He wanted to rage at her—at someone, anyone—because just one man could have changed _everything_. Edgeworth knew in his heart that none of it was Balfour's fault or her father's fault that things turned out how they did, but a sinister voice in his head told him that were it not for this woman here, he might still have a father…

"My—my father—" he started, his voice hoarse, "my father was—killed after that trial. Because—because he caught on to the t-tampered evidence. Von Karma was—was penalized. That was why—that was why von Karma killed my f-father. I—I was there th-that day…in the e-elevator that he d-died in…"

"Oh…oh my god. I'm so—I'm so sorry, Mr. Edgeworth. I'm so sorry," said Balfour softly, her fingers quivering in her lap. "It was…because of me that my dad never—never got to yours…wasn't it?"

The menacing voice in his head screamed at him to agree with her, to tell her that _dammit_, Gregory Edgeworth would still be alive if Evan Balfour had been able to reach him, but Edgeworth managed silence the voice as he struggled to seize control over himself again. "N-no, Ms. Balfour," he croaked, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his eyes. He wiped her glasses as well before handing them back to her, his eyes averted from her face—he couldn't bear to look at her. "It's not your—it's not your fault. If he had done it…if he had gotten caught and Sigaw did what they said they would…you would be the dead one instead. That's still one dead person, and nobody would be better off for it."

They sat in silence for what seemed like hours. What could really be said in this situation? Apologies from someone not at fault wouldn't bring someone back from the dead. Neither seemed to want to move from their spot on the steps, ignoring visitors that walked past them with their curious glances, but neither had the wherewithal to look at the other and dare to say anything. They sat so long that Edgeworth's hair completely dried and had begun falling down into its customary position, and it wasn't until the noontime heat became unbearable did either of them stir.

"Let's go home now, Mr. Edgeworth," said Balfour quietly, lightly touching his shoulder and heading for her car without waiting for him to reply.

Not a word was said between them on the way home. Edgeworth kept his head bowed, his red and puffy eyes drooping and his brow furrowed as the DL-6 incident played itself uncontrollably over and over in his head. The elevator, the scuffle, von Karma's terrifying scream…Edgeworth could see it all clearly, like a nightmare returning in full force…

"We're here, Mr. Edgeworth."

He slowly raised his head and found that they were sitting in the guest lot of his apartment complex. "Are you going to be all right, Mr. Edgeworth?" asked Balfour worriedly. "I can…I can stay with you if you—"

"No. I'll be fine," he interrupted, his voice still hoarse. "Thank you for taking me home."

Without another word, or even a glance in her direction, Edgeworth got out of the car and brusquely shut the door behind him. He didn't stop to look back at her as he strode into the lobby and up the stairs, and didn't even pay attention to the lock on his door as he stepped inside and slammed it behind him. With a sigh, he stood in front of the door, blankly staring into his home, before trudging to the sofa and throwing himself down onto it, resting his elbows on his knees as he let his body slump forward. He made a rather weak attempt at clearing his mind, but the rationality he so depended on seemed intent on keeping the hell away from him while he dealt with the situation.

And, as he curled up on the sofa and buried his face in the cushions, he wondered what he had done in this life or any other to deserve what fate was throwing at him.

* * *

"Pearls, I know you like it, but do you have to carry that thing around with you all the time?"

"Aww, Nick, lighten up a bit, will you? I just treated you to burgers, so you gotta be nice to me and Pearly!"

Wright frowned as Maya gave him a cheeky grin and ran off to play on some swings with Pearl, who was clutching her Justice Bear from the county fair. They were taking a walk through the park before the girls had to return to Kurain, and since they'd just had an early dinner at the burger joint across from Sago Tea (it shocking because Maya, for unfathomable reasons, had offered to pay for once, which made Wright fear he was suffering some sort of hallucination), he thought he ought to humor them a bit and be nice—not that he wasn't normally.

"Hey, Mr. Nick," Pearl called from her swing, "is that Ms. Skye over there?"

He glanced in the direction that she was pointing and found it was indeed Skye Balfour, absently walking across the grass toward the pond. When he looked back to Pearl, he felt his heart skip a beat when she and Maya jumped off in unison and went sailing through the air, landing elegantly at the edge of the sandbox. "P-P-Pearls! Maya! Don't do that!" he shouted, pointing his finger at them as though it would reverse time and prevent them from jumping in the first place. To his dismay—though he wasn't surprised—both of them completely ignored him and instead skipped over to Balfour, who was now sitting at the edge of the pond with her head buried in her knees.

"Hi, Skye!" said Maya cheerily, jumping into view and startling Balfour so badly that she gave a small help and toppled sideways. When she pulled herself off the ground and looked up at Maya, Maya gasped and squatted down next to her. "What happened to your face?"

"H-hi, Maya. It's nothing—I got hit by a doorknob," Balfour said, laughing nervously. "So what're you doing here?"

"Taking a walk with Nick! We just had dinner at the burger place over there," Maya said, gesturing toward the café.

"I—I see," said Balfour, smiling and nodding to Wright.

"Is something bothering you, Ms. Balfour?" asked Wright. Her smile did little to hide her unease—he could see that her eyes were faintly red and a bit puffy, and the blotch of purple under her eye made her look positively miserable.

"Please, just call me Skye. But I'm fine, really," she said, laughing that nervous, completely unconvincing laugh again. Though Wright had only really spoken with Balfour a few weeks ago, she seemed to be acting rather different than how he remembered. In a motion that was just barely conscious enough to not be a knee-jerk reaction, he slipped his hand into his pocket and grasped the magatama. Immediately, he could see a Psyche-Lock fall into place.

_Must not be too big of a deal_, Wright thought, turning the magatama over in his hand. "Skye, I think there _is_ something bothering you. Sure you don't want to talk about it?" he said helpfully, smiling.

"Oh, no. Really. It's just—he—errr, no, it's nothing."

"He? Is it something to do with Edgeworth?"

When she didn't say anything, Pearl gasped. "Ms. Skye, did you fight with Mr. Edgeworth?" she said worriedly, putting her hand to her mouth.

_Bingo_, Wright thought as the Psyche-Lock disappeared. "I—er, yeah, he's…I think he's really upset," Balfour said sadly, turning away.

"Well, Edgeworth can be difficult. What did you fight about?" Wright asked.

"We—we figured out that my dad was acquainted with his. And what we found out—it's my fault—" She stopped suddenly, seemingly unable to find her words. Wright arched an eyebrow. That was definitely unexpected—were they childhood friends or something?

"What was your fault?" he asked. His eyes widened in surprise when no less than five Psyche-Locks appeared over her. He'd never be able to break the locks without having any more to go on, and she certainly was not going to be volunteering any information.

"I—that's something for him to tell you," she said quietly. She paused a moment, as though contemplating something, before turning to look up at him. "You're his friend, right? Do you think you could check on him later? I'm worried about him…but I don't think he wants to see me right now…"

"I can do that. Where is he?" asked Wright.

"He's at home."

Wright laughed and scratched his head. "I don't know where he lives," he said, giving her an apologetic look. She gave him an incredulous look, and it was obvious that she thought him to be a rather poor friend for not even knowing where the other lives.

"Right…Well, let me write directions for you," she said, taking an organizer from her bag and, after quickly scribbling something down, ripped a page out and handed it to him. "I wrote my number on there too. Can you call me and…let me know how he is? Doesn't matter what time it is."

"Sure, that's not a problem."

"Let's go, Nick! Mr. Edgeworth needs us!" said Maya excitedly, grabbing his arm and attempting to pull him away.

"Hang on, Maya. This is in the opposite direction of the train station," said Wright, frowning at the slip of paper. "You'll miss your train if we visit him now." She puffed out her cheeks and folded her arms across her chest huffily.

"Awww, but—!"

He hurriedly held up his hands to keep her from continuing. "How about this? I'll call you tonight right after I call Skye," he said. Maya considered this for a minute or so, during which Wright worried that she might object, before she nodded and clapped her hands once.

"All right, but you better not forget, Nick!"

"I will, I will. We should head to the train station now, then," said Wright, before turning back to Balfour. "Thanks for letting me know about Edgeworth."

* * *

Phoenix Wright stood in front of Miles Edgeworth's apartment and, steeling himself for whatever might be inside, knocked three times. He listened for a moment and when he didn't hear anyone approaching, gave the door a few more energetic knocks.

Still nothing.

He tried the doorknob and was rather surprised to find it unlocked. Immediately, an ominous feeling washed over him and he slowly cracked open the door, cautiously peering inside and deeply hoping that he wouldn't be greeted by blood-splattered floors or killers with guns. What he actually found was far from what he'd expected and nowhere near as dreadful, but nonetheless, he froze to stare in shock at what was before him.

Miles Edgeworth? Drunk?

He was sitting on his sofa, his hair was unkempt, bangs jutting out at odd angles, and the lines underneath his eyes that were normally faint were now dark. His cravat was discarded on the floor, along with a black vest and a blue jacket. The white dress shirt was unbuttoned down to his chest and the sleeves were pushed up above his elbows; he hadn't even bothered to roll them. A glass of something clear held loosely in his fingers—from the smell of the room, it must have been vodka. His briefcase was open on the coffee table and it seemed he was trying to pile all manner of bizarre things into it: a bamboo plant, assorted documents, a cravat, and what appeared to be a nearly empty vodka bottle.

"Edgeworth, what are you doing?" said Wright, stepping in and locking the door behind him. Edgeworth slowly turned to glare at him, before turning back to stare at his briefcase.

"What are you doing here, Wright?" he said. It unsettled Wright that his words were beginning to slur together—it didn't seem natural to see the very precise and methodical Miles Edgeworth in such a state.

"Yuck, are you drinking vodka straight?" Wright asked, frowning and trying to take the glass from him. "You reek. How much did you drink?" Edgeworth elbowed Wright's hand out the way and gave an irritated snort.

"Leave me alone."

"So where are you going with this briefcase?" asked Wright coolly, taking a seat beside him.

"To the office." Wright had to stifle a laugh at how matter-of-factly he'd said it. There was no doubt that Miles Edgeworth was drunk.

"To do what?"

"Pick up files for an invest—inv—investigation," Edgeworth managed to say, lifting his glass to take a sip, only to have Wright snatch it out of his hand.

"Hey, what happened earlier? Skye said you were upset, so she asked me to check on you," said Wright, swatting his hand away as he attempted to recover his glass.

"Leave me alone. I n-need to go to the office," he said, scowling and reaching for the keys on the coffee table.

"Whoa, Edgeworth, you're not going anywhere," Wright said quickly, grabbing the keys and stuffing them into his pocket as he pushed Edgeworth back down onto the sofa. "Why do you need to go to the office so badly, anyway?"

"DL-6…I have to lo—look at the files…"

Wright looked at him in surprise, though Edgeworth's gaze remained firmly on his glassless hand. "DL-6? I thought we already handled that one," said Wright, bemused. It was his assumption that they'd cleaned up the DL-6 incident quite nicely three years ago, so why was he so interested in it now?

"No—have to find out—who my father's client was. Sk—Skye's father—my father—dead…"

Edgeworth's eyes were drooping—he seemed ready to fall asleep where he sat and Wright had to steady him so he didn't fall forward out of his seat. "What are you talking about? What about your father?" he asked as he gently pushed Edgeworth until his back was resting against the sofa.

"Did you know, Wright?" said Edgeworth, laughing a chilling, quiet laugh that made a shiver go down Wright's spine. "If only—if only Skye's father made in time…my father could still be alive…" He laughed again, louder this time, as he run his fingers through his hair. Without warning, he slammed his fist against the back of the sofa, missing Wright's face by mere inches. "Why the _hell_ do things like this happen to me, Wright?"

"What are you talking about, Edgeworth? Is this what you and Skye fought about?"

"Fought? When did we fi—fight?" he said, slowly turning his eyes on Wright.

"She said it was her fault you were mad at her or something like that."

He regarded Wright for a few moments—Wright could almost hear the drunken cogs in his brain turning—before slumping to the side and draping himself against the sofa armrest. "If it hadn't been for her—my father might be…alive…" He trailed off as he dropped off to sleep, his mouth hanging open.

Wright watched him silently for a moment, unsure of what it was exactly that he just heard. If it hadn't been for Balfour, Edgeworth's father might be alive? He didn't even know what to make of that; the events of the DL-6 incident were settled during that trial, and nowhere in it was there any evidence of a young girl shooting Gregory Edgeworth—or indeed, a young girl involved in the incident at all. In fact, it was conclusively proved that it was _not_ a young girl doing the shooting, so what was Edgeworth talking about?

With a sigh, Wright took Edgeworth's arm and heaved him up onto his feet. Fortunately for him, Edgeworth was just conscious enough for Wright to drag him into the bedroom and gently lay him on the bed, turning him onto his side for good measure. After one last look to make sure that Edgeworth wasn't going to roll off the bed and kill himself on something, he went back to the living room to take a seat on the sofa. He sighed and pulled his blue suit jacket off, folding it and draping it on the back of the sofa. As much as Edgeworth would hate it, Wright couldn't just leave him alone like that, especially if he was in such a wretched state. To be honest, Wright had some questions that he'd very much like the answers to. Happily, the sofa was comfortable enough that it wouldn't be too bad sleeping on it.

Sighing once more, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed.

"_Hello?_"

"Is this Skye Balfour?"

"_Mr. Wright?_"

"Hey…about what happened with Edgeworth today…"

* * *

_Wow, I cranked this one out really fast. XD; It may be related to the art block I'm currently suffering through. Hahaha. Anywho, I might not have proofread it as thoroughly as I normally do, so please don't hesitate to point out any mistakes I might have made. I'm currently rereading the other chapters and may need to retcon some stuff, but I don't think I'll have to change much of anything._

_To any Filipino readers that live in the Philippines: is "Sigaw ng Liyon" really awkward? I was born in the US, so my Tagalog isn't anywhere near as good as a native speaker from the Philippines. I feel like it might be a little weird, but I can't tell for sure and it's kind of a weird thing to ask my family, so I don't ask. XD; _

_I need to draw Edgeworth in a cape. It'll be hot. Drunk Edgeworth in a cape? : D Lovely._

_[edit] WTF, Fanfiction . net. Why do you hate 5 hyphens put together? First it hates URLs, and now it hates symbols. Jeebus.  
_


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